


The Heart and the Knife

by WingsOfWax



Series: One or the Other [6]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Aaron is a jackass, Aatt, Angst, Betsy is an awesome person, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Use, Homophobia, Homophobic Slurs, Hospitals, I'm Sorry, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Nightmares, Self Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tags Are Hard, aaron is a little shit, but I love him anyway, eating problems, everyone feels guilty about everything, he also wants to run away from all of his problems, i hope i reflected that well, i might have missed something, listen, lots of swearing, non-verbal Aaron, past child abuse (on screen), psych hold, sleeping problems, this list is like as long as my arm at this point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-19 00:49:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 50,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9410291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingsOfWax/pseuds/WingsOfWax
Summary: "Someone’s knocking on the door. He climbs into the tub and closes the shower curtain. He hunches over himself, covering his head with his arms. He remembers doing this when he was little, back when he still tried to hide from his mother. .... He’s shaking, shaking so bad. He remembers the way it felt to withdraw from all of the shit he’d been on, when Andrew had locked him in the bathroom at the house in Columbia. It feels sort of like that, but worse.He’s biting his knuckles again. He’s distantly aware that there are tears on his face. The important part is that he isn’t making a sound. He isn’t even breathing loudly. He’d be able to hear it in the bathroom. Everything echos. But no, he’s not. He bites harder, but it’s not helping, and he’s not sure how to stop himself from gasping any longer.He tries to touch his face and that’s when he realizes the tips of his fingers are numb. But it’s not just his fingers. It’s his hands. No, it’s all of him. Everything is numb, and he’s not shaking as bad anymore. ..."





	1. Aaron

**Author's Note:**

> Listen. Lena left me a comment on Jekyll & Hyde that there were no tears shed. I had to try to fix that. I'm still honestly not sure if I managed. I came close a couple of times while writing this, though. So there's that. My working title for this was literally "pain & suffering". It's fun. 
> 
> Buckle your seatbelts kiddos. This is a wild ride. 
> 
> I feel like I'm fulfilling my goal of filling up this tag...
> 
> Special thanks to @poze-laceen for being amazing and perfect and kind and just an all-around goddess.
> 
>  
> 
> [Check out this amazing art from Lio!!!](https://wingsofwaxx.tumblr.com/post/157211806523/wingsofwaxx-lio-zehel-commission-for)

Aaron hasn’t slept in two days and he’s in the middle of cramming for finals when his phone buzzes with an incoming text. It’s from an unknown number, which should be weird, but Ketelyn invited him to a study group a few weeks ago, and he still doesn’t have all of their numbers saved. He’ll get random texts sometimes with obscure questions that - somehow - he ends up knowing the answers to.

There’s no actual text to the message, just an image attachment. He figures it’s probably a photo of the problem - some of them are far too complex to try to type out - so he downloads it and sets his phone to the side for a moment while he waits. He has three final exams tomorrow and he feels like he’s drowning. He forgets about the text, the picture, his phone, everything.

He’s running on caffeine, protein bars, and spite by the time he finishes his last final Wednesday afternoon. He crashes into his bed and fumbles for his phone, only thinking to text Matt and let him know he’s survived his finals and now he needs to go into hibernation for a few days to recuperate. But he sees the text from the unknown number and feels a little guilty for forgetting about it. He doesn’t know which of Katelyn’s friends he’ll need to half-ass an apology to. Katelyn is still his best friend and one of the only people he actually enjoys spending time with. He doesn’t want to upset her, so he opens the message, thinking he might be able to answer it before whoever sent it has their final. 

He drops his phone. He can’t tear his eyes away from the picture. It’s not a difficult biology problem. It’s a photo of him and Matt. Aaron’s pretty sure it was taken when they were in New York over Thanksgiving. They’re in Matt’s truck, and they’re kissing over the center console. 

A blinding, consuming wave of panic settles over him. He’s already shaking. He’s biting his knuckles, hard - then harder. He can’t make a sound. Nothing feels real anymore. He can only think of what happened last time.

_ He was in the library, his nose in a book. He sat with Chris because Chris was quiet and a reject, too. They had some stupid group project for their history class to do, and they were they only ones who were going to do it. Which was fine. Aaron only cared to keep his grades high enough not to fail. It was a bonus that helping Chris meant not going home. _

_ Someone came from behind him and shoved the back of his head down hard. Aaron slammed his book on the table and threw his elbow back, but hit only empty air. There was a chorus of laughter from the boys behind him. They were football and exy players - all buddy-buddy for once. Aaron sneered at them, then went back to his book. He carefully kept his eyes away from Rich. _

_ “Heard you got caught making out with a guy behind the school, fag.” _

_ Aaron looked up from his book. His stomach knotted painfully. He hadn’t been caught, but the one he’d kissed was standing in front of him now, calling him out, making the claim. He didn’t really understand. Rich had been just as afraid of being found out, of being seen, of even admitting to what they were doing.  _

_ Aaron kept his sneer firm. “Maybe you mixed me up with Ashley. We’re both short and blond, after all. And god knows you can’t see a fucking football to save your goddamned life.” _

_ Cam, one of the other guys, punched him for that comment. The fist caught his jaw and maybe should have knocked him over. Cam had certainly been expecting that, judging from the look on his face. Aaron was too used to getting knocked around for Cam’s punch to get the best of him. He lifted his hand and wiped the back of it over his now-split lip. He reached over, closed his book, slid it over to Chris, and grabbed his bag. When he walked away from the table, the guys followed. _

_ “Trying to run away, Minyard?” _

_ “Just like a fucking faggot.” _

_ “You aren’t gonna get far.” _

_ “We’ll tell everyone.” _

_ Aaron stopped once he was in the parking lot. It was still early, but it was already dark outside. He turned and faced the guys. There were six of them. “I’m not running, I’m not a faggot, and you can go fuck yourselves.” He looked directly at Rich as he said it all. _

_ He knew what this was. Rich had told one of them. And now Rich had to prove he wasn’t what they were calling Aaron. He  _ hated  _ them. They were hypocrites and bastards.  _

_ Rich hung back while Cam threw another punch. Toby and Carlos joined in, kicking him and spitting on him. Aaron didn’t really fight back. He tried to, a little, but he hadn’t eaten anything but school lunches in a week and he was so, so tired. _

_ They taunted him with slurs and pretended like he’d done so much worse than kiss another boy. Aaron already hated himself. Why did the world have to make him feel worse? _

_ He didn’t understand why he was attracted to girls  _ and  _ guys. He was a raging ball of hormones at fifteen, tiny for his age, and so, so angry. But he couldn’t make it go away. He’d get a boner watching the football players  _ and  _ the cheerleaders. It wasn’t fair, just like everything else in his life. _

_ “Come on, Rich,” Cam shouted. He grabbed a fistful of Aaron’s hair and jerked his head back. “Take your turn.” Rich hesitated. “Fucking do it!” Cam leaned closer to Aaron to whisper in his ear, “Maybe you’ll scream for your bitch, hm?” _

_ Aaron didn’t scream. He hadn’t made much of a sound the entire time the boys were beating on him. Rich punched him twice, once in the stomach and once in the mouth. When Rich’s knuckles caught on Aaron’s teeth, he bled and backed out. The others backed out as well, but Cam… Cam kept on. He kicked Aaron until he was curled up on the ground, and then he stomped on Aaron’s arm.  _

_ They left him there, bleeding and almost crying. Aaron had to force himself to get up, to go home. Mom had pills at home and he couldn’t have the cops asking any questions. It took all he had to focus on walking, on making his feet move one in front of the other. It was a long walk.  _

_ Usually, he liked the walk. He could take his time and stretch it out. Sometimes, if he took long enough, Mom would already be passed out when he got there. Tonight he just wanted to close the door behind himself and curl up after taking as many pills as he could find.  _

_ He wasn’t lucky enough for Mom to be passed out. She was drunk and high. “Where have you been?” she screamed before he even got the door closed. The moment it shut behind him, she was on him, grabbing his hair and yanking it hard so that his head was forced back again. He couldn’t hold in the slight hiss of pain this time. His scalp felt bruised. “Were you  _ fighting _?” She shook him so hard his teeth rattled. _

_ “I got jumped,” he muttered, voice small and flat. He didn’t really expect any sympathy from her, he just wanted her to let go.  _

_ “What did you do?” She smacked his face, her hand hitting the forming bruises and open cuts already there. _

_ “I didn’t do anything!” Aaron cringed back before he could stop himself. He knew it was always, always worse if he tried to get away. She grabbed the arm Cam had stomped on and wrenched it forward.  _

_ They both heard the crack. They both froze. She let go and he crumpled to the floor. He clutched his arm to his chest and bit down hard on his knuckles. A soft whine still escaped him. _

_ “Shut up!” she shrieked. She slapped him again, and he didn’t budge. He barely even noticed it over the pain in his arm. “ _ Why _?” Her hand wrapped around his chin and forced his head back. “Why did they attack you?” _

_ His lips and tongue felt numb. He was shaking. He said, voice trembling, “They called me a fag.” Mom curled her lip in disgust and shoved his face away from her. “I’m not,” he whispered, and again, “I’m not.” _

_ She didn’t hear him. She was gone, moving around in the tiny apartment that was only semi-clean because of him. “Get up!” Her voice snatched him out of his fog and brought back the pain full-force. She snatched his unbroken arm - a small relief - and pulled him to his feet. “We’re going to the hospital.” _

Aaron remembers. He remembers the black cast that stretched from the base of his fingers to over his elbow on his right arm. He remembers the police coming to speak to him with a woman from social services. He remembers lying to them to make them leave him alone. He remembers later, when he found his mother stealing his pain pills. He remembers her telling him that he’s changing schools. 

He remembers how, over the next summer, he joined the exy team. It was so easy to explain away the bruises from his mother that way, since exy was a violent sport. He remembers having sex with the first girl that showed him any interest and promptly telling everyone just to avoid the same situation from the last school.

He remembers Andrew and Nicky and his mother’s death. He remembers the deal with Andrew and how he was always tired all the time, but he didn’t hurt anymore. He remembers being such an awful person to Nicky, to everyone, in an attempt to fool himself into thinking he didn’t find men attractive. He remembers hating himself, but that’s never really gone away.

He’s still shaking when he picks his phone up again. The picture is a little blurry and dark, but it’s obviously him and Matt. He doesn’t understand who could have taken it, or why, or why they’re sending it to him. His right arm aches with phantom pain.

No one can know. That was his one rule with Matt. No one can  _ ever  _ know. Nicky knew, but he trusted Nicky with the important things. Andrew knew, even if he wasn’t supposed to. They were still working that one out. Those two, he knew, wouldn’t ever hurt him like this, they wouldn’t use this against him. Whoever sent this picture sent it as a threat.

He throws his phone across the room and watches it shatter against the far wall. He is biting his knuckles hard enough to draw blood, but he can’t stop. He wants to scream. He can’t make any sound at all. 

No one can know. If they know, he’ll get hurt again. He knows it. There’s no alternative. Now someone knows. There’s only a matter of time before they find him, before they hurt him. He just has to wait. 

He stumbles out of his bed and runs to the bathroom. He slams the door behind himself and locks it. He can’t let them find him. He has to get  _ away _ . 

He knows his brain isn’t where it should be. He’s not logical. He hasn’t slept in three days and he’s had enough caffeine to make him feel like he’s snorted a few fat lines of cocaine. It doesn’t matter though. He doesn’t care. Someone knows. He won’t go back to that.

He won’t get hurt again. He won’t let people beat him bloody - or worse, like those men tried to do to Nicky. He won’t move again. He won’t switch schools again. He won’t. He can’t. 

He’s opening the medicine cabinet and grabbing pill bottles before he knows what he’s doing. It doesn’t register that he’s emptied several of them until he’s gagging on his third handful of pills. Some of them spill into the sink. He’s shaking so badly that he can’t stand anymore. 

Someone’s knocking on the door. He climbs into the tub and closes the shower curtain. He hunches over himself, covering his head with his arms. He remembers doing this when he was little, back when he still tried to hide from his mother. 

It won’t be long. He’s not making a sound. Whoever’s at the door goes away. He breathes a little easier. He’s shaking, shaking so bad. He remembers the way it felt to withdraw from all of the shit he’d been on, when Andrew had locked him in the bathroom at the house in Columbia. It feels sort of like that, but worse.

He’s biting his knuckles again. He’s distantly aware that there are tears on his face. The important part is that he isn’t making a sound. He isn’t even breathing loudly. He’d be able to hear it in the bathroom. Everything echos. But no, he’s not. He bites harder, but it’s not helping, and he’s not sure how to stop himself from gasping any longer.

He tries to touch his face and that’s when he realizes the tips of his fingers are numb. But it’s not just his fingers. It’s his hands. No, it’s all of him. Everything is numb, and he’s not shaking as bad anymore. 

His brain is sliding out of panic mode, sort of. Nothing hurts. That’s good. That’s perfect. He closes his eyes and lets the side of his head rest against the tile. He thinks that should probably be cold, but he doesn’t notice it. Great. He doesn’t even have to be cold. He couldn’t be happier, really. He closes his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-8255
> 
> Do not be silent.


	2. Matt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... Matt hits his knees as he watches them take Aaron away from him. He hears the others talking around him but he doesn't take in anything they are saying. ...

Matt is walking through the Tower for the first time in half a year. He's missed it, he realizes. He's missed hanging out with Neil and the rest of the team. This was his home for so long, and leaving it behind was hard. He steps off of the elevator with Neil, still grinning. 

He hasn't been able to stop grinning since he saw Neil in baggage claim waiting to pick him up. He knows Aaron’s finals are over. He figures Aaron probably wants to just sleep for a couple of days, but they can just sleep together. He's missed Aaron too, even though they talk nearly every day. 

Aaron doesn't know he's here. It was meant as a surprise. They'd talked about Aaron coming to New York for Christmas, like Thanksgiving. His games are done with for the next couple of weeks, so he gets a break too. 

They stop halfway down the hall. The door to Matt’s old dorm is open. People are shouting. Matt hears Aaron’s name. He's running before he even thinks about it. Neil, he realizes, is right beside him. 

“Aaron!” Nicky is screaming at the closed bathroom door. “Aaron, open the door!” He's pounding on the door and shoving his shoulder into it like he's trying to break it open. 

“Nicky, what's wrong?” Neil asks. Matt is grateful. His throat is tight with worry and he can't speak. 

Nicky looks at them with surprise and fear mixed into his too-pale complexion. “Joey said Aaron ran in here a while ago and hasn't come out since. He isn't answering me and won't open the door!”

Neil turns and leaves. Matt waves Nicky to the side and Nicky moves instantly. Matt runs at it like he would an opposing striker and batters the door in. The frame splinters. He pushes the door back open when it tries to close on him. He takes in the scene with dread already pooling in his stomach. 

The shower curtain is closed, and there are maybe ten orange and white pill bottles scattered over the floor. He sees some of them spilled in the sink. He takes two steps in and rips back the shower curtain. 

“Aaron!” Nicky shrieks beside him. 

Aaron is slumped against the side of the shower, pale and barely breathing. Matt bends down and shoves him forward. He rakes Aaron’s hair back, but Aaron isn't responsive at all. He pries open Aaron’s mouth and shoves two fingers to the back of his throat, trying to gag him. Nothing. 

“Oh my god!” Nicky is hysterical. He crouches next to Matt and shakes Aaron’s shoulder. Aaron’s head flops a little, but he otherwise doesn't move. “Aaron! Aaron!”

“It won't help, Nicky,” Matt croaks. “We gotta get him to the hospital.” He gathers Aaron close to his chest and lifts him easily. For all his muscle, Aaron is still very small. Nicky is on his feet first and running out of the bathroom. 

“Andrew!” Nicky shouts. Matt stops at the bathroom door and watches as Andrew takes in the scene. “It's Aaron, we have to -”

“Let's go. I can get us there faster.” Andrew turns on the spot and heads out the door. Neil follows, as does Nicky. Matt spares a glance at the two other boys in the room, grimaces at their shocked expressions, and goes after them. 

Andrew holds the elevator for him. When they're inside he asks, “What happened?”

“I don't know!” Nicky is sobbing openly. Neil is doing his best to comfort him with one arm around his shoulders, but it clearly isn't doing much good. “I got back to the dorm and Joey said that Aaron ran to the bathroom earlier and locked himself in there. He hadn't come out, so I started knocking and calling to him to check on him. He didn't answer and I started worrying. I was getting ready to break down the door when Matt and Neil came in. Matt broke it down and he found Aaron in the tub.”

“There were pill bottles all over the floor,” Matt says quietly as they leave the elevator. Andrew’s expression goes tight and then dead flat in a way Matt has only ever seen a couple of times before. 

Neil opens the back door of the Maserati for Matt. It's a little difficult to climb in, but he manages without hitting Aaron’s head or anything else. He keeps Aaron held close while Nicky holds Aaron’s bare feet, trying to rub warmth back into them. Aaron is still breathing - but he's cold. 

“How many?” Andrew asks as he peels out of the parking lot. He nearly runs over a student that doesn't get out of the way fast enough. 

Matt thinks back. “Ten? More or less. Some of the pills were on the floor or in the sink. I don't know what they were for. Some of them were prescriptions.”

“Steven’s on some crazy-high dosage of antidepressants and some other stuff,” Nicky said quietly. “And sleeping pills and painkillers too.”

“Do you know why?” Neil asks from the front seat. He's turned around and looking at them. Nicky shakes his head, and so does Matt. “It doesn't make sense…”

“He's been up for like three days,” Nicky whispers. “He's been cramming for his finals. I told him to rest, to take it easy, but I know he didn't listen.” He sniffs and wipes away some of his tears with his fingers. “I know his phone was broken. I saw it in the bedroom. I checked there too, just to make sure…”

Andrew blows through a red light and Matt swears softly at the stream of honking that follows them. It's a miracle there isn't a cop behind them yet. Andrew hits the button for the hazards and speeds up. They are at the hospital in record time, and Matt has a sinking feeling of deja vu from the last time he was in this situation - back when Aaron got shot. 

He eases out of the car while Andrew and Neil run inside. Nicky stays by Matt’s side, refusing to let go of Aaron’s hand now that he has it between his own. Matt hadn't seen it before and so hadn't realized how badly it was bleeding. A team of nurses meets them on the other side of the doors and takes Aaron from him. 

Matt hits his knees as he watches them take Aaron away from him. He hears the others talking around him but he doesn't take in anything they are saying. He can ask Andrew later, he thinks, because Andrew knows he cares for Aaron. Neil makes him stand and move to one of the chairs in the back of the waiting room. 

Nicky is crying again, folded over on himself. Matt looks up at Andrew. “Can I have a cigarette?” Andrew just stares at him for a moment, then nods. They go outside and leave Neil and Nicky in the waiting room just in case. Andrew hands one over, along with the lighter. It takes Matt a moment to light it because his hands are shaking so badly, but the first drag is sweet. 

“Didn't know you smoked,” Andrew says, and coming from him, it's a lot. 

Matt shrugs as he looks at the cigarette. “I really don't. I used to.” He sinks down on one of the benches that line the parking lot. “Might have to take it up again if Aaron keeps scaring the ever-loving shit out of me.”

He finishes his cigarette without a response from Andrew. He wants another one. Even though he doesn't ask, Andrew gives him one anyway, and lights it for him too. 

“Did Aaron know you were coming?”

Matt shakes his head. “I wanted to surprise him. His last final was today, so break officially starts for him.” He watches the cherry burn and the wind carry away the smoke. “He must have finished his finals, so why…”

Andrew doesn't answer. Matt knows it's because he doesn't have one to give. They each finish their second cigarette and Matt makes himself stand and go back inside. 

It's a long wait. It seems like forever and no time at all when a nurse finally comes over to them. “You're here for Aaron Minyard, right?”

Andrew stands and nods. “He's my brother.”

She nods. “He's doing better now. We pumped his stomach and we’ve managed to flush most of whatever he took out of his system. He's going to be held under a mandatory seventy-two hour hold.” 

Andrew nods, like he was expecting this. Matt wants to fight, wants to scream at her and demand to see Aaron, but Andrew slides a sharp look at him that makes him hold his tongue. “Can I see him?”

“I'm afraid not,” the nurse says with a frown. “We have to wait until he wakes up. We’ll have to speak with him and figure out what's going on first. I hope you can understand that this is for his safety.” Andrew nods again. She holds out a clipboard. “We do need all of this filled out, if you can do so. List yourself as his emergency contact and we will call you when we can.” Andrew takes it and she walks away. 

“What does she mean, about it being for his own safety?” Nicky asks. “We’re his family. We love him!”

Andrew gives him a cold look. “They don't know that, Nicky. They have to hear it from Aaron.” Nicky curls over on himself and starts rubbing at the blood on his fingers. “Where did the blood come from?”

“His hand,” Matt says. They all know now that Aaron bites his knuckles to say quiet. Why he was staying quiet is the mystery. Andrew sits down a chair away from Matt - closer than he's ever willingly sat before - and begins to fill out the paperwork. 

Matt is surprised when, a little while later, Andrew taps Matt’s shoulder with the edge of the clipboard. He takes it and frowns down at the empty emergency contact slot. He thinks he's supposed to give it to Nicky, but when he makes like he is about to do so, Andrew shakes his head. 

“Me?” Matt asks, startled. Andrew nods once, then looks away. Matt quickly jots down his information and flips through the papers to see if anything else needs to be filled out. It doesn't, so he takes the clipboard up to the desk. He pays the copay while he's up there, and returns without a word. Nicky gives him a watery smile. 

“There's no point in staying,” Andrew says. “I'll call Bee, see if she can talk to them tomorrow about the psych hold depending on what Aaron says. They won't let anyone see him until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest.”

Neil stands. “Andrew…” He doesn't really sound like he's arguing, but there's something else in his tone that makes Andrew shake his head. “We still need to call Coach.”

“Don't bother.” Their heads all snap over to Wymack as he is walking their way. “Why the fuck did I get a call about Aaron trying to fucking commit suicide from one of my freshmen? What the hell is going on here?” He looks at Neil first, then the rest of them. He looks a little surprised to see Matt, but doesn't say anything. 

Neil sighs. “We don't know anything, Coach. Matt flew it to visit for a few days and I picked him up at the airport. When we got back to the Tower, we heard Nicky screaming for Aaron. Matt had to break down their bathroom door to get to him.” Wymack sighs at this, but waves his hand for Neil to keep going. “He was in the tub, I guess, and it looks like he took a bunch of pills. We drove him here. We don't know why.”

Wymack looks at Andrew for a long moment. “Have you called Betsy yet?”

“That was my next stop,” Andrew says, tucking a cigarette between his lips. He heads outside without them. Wymack doesn't try to stop him. 

“So he just, what, snapped?” Wymack asks, rubbing a hand down his face. “I don't buy it. Something is wrong here.”

“They won't let us talk to him,” Nicky says, voice trembling. “The nurse lady said it was for his own safety or whatever, but they have to keep him on some three day hold.”

Wymack nods. “Yeah, that's about the standard for this kind of thing. They have to talk to him first to figure out what's up. If Aaron wants to talk to any of you, then he will be allowed to call.”

Neil tugs on some of his hair. He's frowning hard. “Coach…” He looks at the door that Andrew left through. 

Wymack nods. “I know, Neil, but Betsy is the best person for him right now. There's nothing any of us can do. Maybe she can help Aaron some too. For right now, let’s get out of here. Anything happens, I'm sure they’ll call Andrew so you’ll be the first to know.”

Matt knows that Nicky and Neil both saw him fill out the emergency contact information for himself, but they say nothing about it. He's very, very glad. Aaron’s one big thing is that no one can know, and he doesn't want Wymack to find out. He heads outside with them but declines a ride back with Wymack when he offers. There's no argument, only a nod and Wymack mutters about needing a lot of alcohol tonight. 

Andrew is still on the phone. He is sitting inside the Maserati smoking, one window barely cracked enough to let the smoke out. Matt notices the hotel across the street.

“Hey, Nicky?”

“Hm?”

“Do you have any more finals?”

“Oh. No. Finished mine today too.” He tries for a smile, but it falls flat. “Why?”

Matt nods at the hotel. “Wanna stay there, be closer to Aaron?” Nicky smiles a little better and nods, too choked up for words. “Neil? I can get you and Andrew a room.”

“We still have finals,” Neil sighs. “Andrew might still say yes. I'll ask him.” Neil walks over to the car and waits for Andrew to roll down the window. Matt watches their conversation. Neil gives Matt a thumbs up, so Matt gets Nicky to walk with him to the hotel. 

He doesn't blink at the cost. It's not very expensive to begin with, and he's making almost more money than he knows what to do with as it is. Andrew takes Nicky and Neil back to the dorm so they can get changes of clothes and it feels like the longest hour of Matt’s life. Nicky comes with a bag for Aaron as well. They all go to bed fairly early, but Matt doubts any of them sleep well.  

He knows he doesn’t. Somewhere around three in the morning, he wakes up from an awful nightmare. It’s some kind of mixture of a memory of when he and Aaron were thrown into the back of that van and Aaron was shot and what he’d heard about what happened to Aaron last night. He watches Aaron swallow handfuls of pills at the time, right in front of him, and Matt is helpless to stop him. 

Nicky must hear him, or something, because the next thing he knows, Nicky is sitting beside him on his bed and holding on to him and Matt is crying into Nicky’s shoulder. He doesn’t know how to stop crying, either. He feels like such a failure. He says as much to Nicky.

“You aren’t, Matt,” Nicky whispers. “If anyone’s a failure, it’s me. I live with him. I should have been taking better care of him. I should have -” Nicky’s voice breaks with a choked-off sob and Matt wraps his arms around Nicky in return. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Matt whispers. This conversation is too sensitive for anything louder. “I can’t keep...keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” Nicky isn’t looking at him, and Matt’s glad for it. Even so, Matt turns his head away and stares at the light-colored curtains instead.

“Worrying about him like this. Thinking that he’ll just - just do this whenever he gets scared and leave me like this.” Nicky’s fingers dig into his side and back where his hands were pressed flat a moment ago. Matt closes his eyes and lowers his head. “I  _ can’t _ , Nicky. I can’t handle it.”

“We don’t even know what happened yet,” Nicky protests. “Please, Matt. Please tell me you aren’t just going to leave him in the hospital and not let him explain anything.”

Matt can’t answer for a long time. He knows it’s selfish and wrong of him, but that’s exactly what he wants to do. He wants to leave now and go back to New York. He doesn’t want to see Aaron again, not when he knows it’s just going to hurt so damn bad.

He thinks it’s his fault Aaron did this. He really does, even if he can’t tell Nicky that. He’d said something over Thanksgiving, about them at least telling his mom, and Aaron had freaked out so bad. It had almost ruined the entire trip. Matt can’t help but wonder if Aaron got cold feet about coming to New York for Christmas and this was the only way he could think of to get out of it.

“Matt.” Nicky moves his hands to either side of Matt’s face and moves his head so that he has to look at Nicky. “Aaron isn’t...suicidal.” He grimaces as he says the word and shakes his head. “Whatever you’re thinking, just stop, okay? I know him better than you do, okay? Aaron always used pills to just get away from everything.”

Matt feels fresh tears roll down his cheeks. “What if he was running away from me?”

Nicky’s entire face transforms into something of surprise, and then sadness, and while he shakes his head, he doesn’t say anything. Matt moves away from Nicky and stands up. He shoves his feet into his tennis shoes, grabs his coat, wallet, and phone, and leaves the room. He can’t be there anymore. He really can’t. 


	3. Aaron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... He feels like death warmed over. This is worse than any hangover he’s ever had and then some. His throat and stomach hurt. His head hurts. He kind of wants to vomit, but he seriously doubts there’s anything left for him to puke up. ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of this shit (and much of my writing in general) is based on my own personal experiences. Some of this chapter contains those elements, though I'm not going to say which ones. 
> 
> This isn't how psych holds actually work, jsyk - they do make you wake up first, and then start the clock. At least, I'm pretty sure. But I wanted the snark. So. 
> 
> Btw - Narcan is what they give to people when they OD on opiates. Fun fact for ya. (usually in small doses over time)
> 
> I made Aaron a smart little fucker because I can and because I firmly believe this kid works his literal ass off for his degree. I did minimal research for his classes and the MCATs, so if my info seems incorrect, well, it probably is. Also, Perelman is tied for the number 3 spot as one of the top med schools in the country - according to a quick search. And the thing with Aaron's age? A guess...based on a quick bit of me writing down numbers. He might be 24 at this point and I might just be really, really bad with math. But that's why I'm an English Lit major.
> 
> Lots of mentions of suicide in this chapter, yo. So, you know, be careful.

When Aaron wakes, he has a perfect recall of everything that happened. It makes sense, in some kind of demented way, that he’s never been blackout drunk and always remembers the things he’d most like to forget. His memory isn’t quite like Andrew’s, but it’s more than he wants all the same.

He feels like death warmed over. This is worse than any hangover he’s ever had and then some. His throat and stomach hurt. His head hurts. He kind of wants to vomit, but he seriously doubts there’s anything left for him to puke up.

He’s got exactly one semester left of his pre-med degree. He knows what they did to him when he showed up here last night. They performed a gastric lavage - they pumped his stomach. He doesn’t know what he took, he doesn’t think he even looked, but if things had been bad enough even after getting everything out of his stomach, they might have given him Narcan as well. He doesn’t see his own medical chart anywhere or he’d read it and check.

The clock on the wall tells him it’s a little after one in the afternoon. He doesn’t want to move, but he has to pee so he makes himself get up. He has to drag the metal stand that has the IV bags and heart monitor attached to it with him. It's annoying, but he doesn't want to risk any unnecessary attention. While he’s in the bathroom, he takes the time to brush his teeth - when they still feel gross after the first time, he brushes them again. He didn’t hear anyone come in the room, but when he leaves, there’s a doctor sitting in the visitor’s chair by his bed.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Ross.” He waves Aaron over to the bed and Aaron sits on the edge. He isn’t really prepared for whatever this man wants to talk about, but he doesn’t suppose he has much choice. “Feeling all right?”

Aaron shrugs. He doesn’t want to play this game. “Call Betsy Dobson at PSU.”

To his surprise, the older man smiles a little and nods. “Oh, she’s already stopped by. She’d like to speak to you and has shown interest in consulting while you are here. I have to see you first, but I don’t see any harm in letting you see her since she’s your primary therapist.”

Aaron’s gut reaction is to say that she’s not, she’s Andrew’s. But he holds his tongue and nods. It’s a very near miss that he doesn’t try to bite his knuckles. He grips the sheets by his thigh instead. “Fine.”

“Let’s talk about what happened last night, shall we?” Dr. Ross has a notebook open on his lap, but he hasn’t written anything down yet. Aaron supposes he hasn’t given him much to write down in the first place. “Your twin brother and a few others brought you in.”

That doesn’t really surprise Aaron, so he nods. “Nicky found me,” he assumes. The doctor doesn’t confirm or deny this. Aaron sneers. “It’s finals week. I had four finals yesterday. I didn’t sleep for three days and I was running on caffeine and protein bars.”

Now that, the doctor writes down. He frowns at Aaron. “What’s your major?”

Aaron rolls his eyes. “Pre-med.” Just for effect, he says, “I’m at PSU on an exy scholarship and I still maintain a 3.8 GPA.”

“Impressive,” the doctor says with a nod. “Do you always study like that for finals?”

“No. All of my finals were on the same day. That’s never happened before.” Aaron ticks off his classes on his fingers as he lists them. “Biochem, genetics, calc two, and fucking U.S. history.”

The doctor doesn’t seem phased by the obvious aggression in Aaron’s tone, but Aaron knows it won’t do him any favors. He wants to bite his knuckles, but he takes a deep breath instead. It doesn’t help much.

“I can understand your level of stress,” Dr. Ross says with a nod and something that’s supposed to be a sympathetic smile. It really just makes Aaron want to punch him in his smug mouth. “Did you complete all of your finals?” Aaron nods. “So then why take all of those pills?”

And they’re at the heart of the matter already. Aaron’s grateful, at least, that this won’t be drug out over some long session where this doctor tries to get him to spill all his secrets. The problem is, he doesn’t know what to say.

He hesitates. He can’t say anything about the picture that’s burned itself on to the back of his eyelids. He doesn’t dare mention Matt or their...whatever. Matt _isn’t_ his boyfriend, but he won’t say there’s nothing between them because - despite what people think - he isn’t heartless like his brother. And that’s not even a fair statement, because Andrew’s not exactly heartless, either, even if it took Aaron an impossibly long time to see that. He can’t claim to understand it.

“Someone was harassing me,” he settles on, finally. “I had a drug problem when I was in high school. You know as well as I do that that no sleep and that much caffeine do terrible things to a person’s judgement. I wasn’t trying to kill myself.”

Saying that is like trying to choke up something large and bitter. He _wasn’t_ trying to kill himself. He was trying to get _away_. There’s a difference, even if he can’t make some doctor that doesn’t know him understand that. He thinks Betsy might be able to understand, maybe. He’s spoken to her enough over the years.

“You were trying to get high?” the doctor asks, and he looks as skeptical as he sounds. For some reason, the one raised eyebrow irritates Aaron. “Your brother brought the empty bottles by later so that we’d know what you’d taken in case something caused any long-term damage. You were lucky that they didn’t. Most of those drugs don’t get you high.”

“Dunno,” Aaron says, just to be a shit. “Felt pretty fucking high before I passed out.” The doctor writes that down too. “I’m one semester away from graduating with honors. I scored 130s on my MCAT. I’ve already been accepted to Perelman. Why the fuck would I kill myself now?”

The doctor sighs a little and looks at him without a smile. “I’m not sure, Aaron, but you almost died last night whether you consciously intended to do so or not.” He jots something else down. “I can see that you’re only going to be antagonistic with me, so why don’t we compromise? I’ll have Betsy Dobson come in and oversee you for the next couple of days. You do understand we must hold you for seventy-two hours, right?”

“That started the second I came through the door last night,” Aaron says, still being a shit because he can. He looks at the clock. “I’d say that gives you, what fifty-five hours?”

Because the doctor can obviously be just as much of a shit as Aaron, he says, “Fifty-eight.” He stands and leaves.

Aaron sits at the head of the bed with his knees pulled to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. He hates himself. He still doesn’t know who sent that picture. Since he broke his phone, he’ll have to get the phone bill and see if he can track the number that way. It’s a long shot and he knows it, but he’ll have to try. Who knows what might happen while he’s stuck in here, though.

By the time he gets out, everything could be a mess. Perelman will take back their acceptance. He won’t get to become a doctor. He’ll lose everything he’s worked so hard for. If that happens, then yeah, he probably really _will_ kill himself, but not until then. He’s worked too fucking hard for this.

He doesn’t move an inch. Not even when the door opens. He just tightens his arms around himself and squeezes his eyes shut where his forehead is pressed to his knees. He smells food and hears someone set down a tray, but they leave without trying to speak to him. He’s glad they don’t try to talk to him, but he really isn’t hungry. He does take the water before going back to the same position. No one takes the food away.

“Aaron?”

His head snaps up. He hadn’t heard the door open that time, and that freaks him out a little. He looks up at the clock. It’s after four. He must have fallen asleep. The food is gone, and there is a fresh plastic insulated mug of water with a bit of ice floating in it on the little table by the bed. He nods at Betsy and suppresses a grimace as he stretches his limbs out for the first time in several hours.

“Tell them I don’t need to be here,” he says, his voice rough.

Betsy gives him a small smile. “You know I can’t.” She gestures at the chair, as if asking if she can sit, and he nods. She sits and takes out a tablet of bright pink paper and a pen from her bag. “What were you running from, Aaron?”

If he thought Dr. Ross was cutting straight to the heart of things, well - he had nothing on Betsy. Aaron tenses, and Betsy’s eyes catch the movement. He forces himself to relax. It still makes him nervous, sometimes, to have her watch him so closely. He’s never told her that, but sometimes she’ll look away from him if they’re talking about something really difficult just so he can breathe a little easier. He’s grateful, but they don’t talk about it.

Thanks to doctor-patient confidentiality, Betsy is the only person Aaron’s ever actually _told_. She knows everything. He picks at the bedsheets. “Someone sent me a picture of me and Matt. While we were in New York over Thanksgiving.”

“What were you doing in the picture?” she asks.

“Kissing.”

He hears her writing. It should bother him, that she’s actually writing this down, but it doesn’t. He trusts her with a lot, and he’d be lying if he said that that trust had nothing to do with Andrew. She’s done a lot for his brother, and she’s even helped him some, too.

“Why do you have to run from that? It’s only a picture.”

He clutches at the sheets. “I don’t know who sent it,” he hisses. “Matt’s a fucking pro now. If they send that to the media, it’ll go everywhere. I’ll lose everything.”

Betsy says nothing for a moment. Aaron can’t look at her, but he can imagine that she’s probably got some sympathetic look on her face. “Have you considered any other reasons for someone taking and sending you that picture?”

Aaron shakes his head. What other reason could there be? Even if it never winds up in the media’s hands, it’s done plenty of damage now anyway. “They wanted to hurt me.”

“How do you know that? Did you ask?” Betsy already knows he hasn’t. “You could have, Aaron. You could have figured out who sent it and tried to ask them. Aren’t you tired of being afraid of this metaphorical ‘them’ you always talk about?”

Aaron curls up again and hugs his knees to himself. He’s always afraid. There’s no being tired of it. The consequences are too great. He’ll lose everything, and Matt probably will too. He’s selfish, yes, but he’s thought about Matt too - he really has.

“Last time,” he whispers, and he knows Betsy is listening because he’s never told her this story, “anyone found out, I was beaten, got my arm broken, and I’d have been thrown into foster care like Andrew if I hadn’t lied to the cops well enough. She made me switch schools, made us move. I lost almost everything, then.”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” she says, like it’s a suggestion. Aaron feels more like she’s holding a knife to his throat.

He stares at the clock as he recites the memory. He tells her about kissing Rich for the first time, about how the guys found him in the library and followed him outside saying all of those horrible things he’s been guilty of saying himself, about how they punched him and kicked him and how Cam almost broke his arm. He tells her about going home to his mother hitting him and screaming at him, to her snapping his arm for good and then taking him to the hospital. He tells her about how his mother snatched him out of that school and apartment faster than he could blink and made them move, then stole all of his pain pills and hit him even harder any time he so much as spoke too loud.

“I will get hurt again,” he whispers to his knees. “I _know_ it.”

“I’d like for you to consider something, Aaron,” Betsy says. He doesn’t look at her, but she knows he’s listening. “You were fifteen then, right? You had very little control over your own life. We are supposed to be able to rely on our parents or guardians to care for us, but too often, they don’t do the sort of job they should. You’re twenty-three now, Aaron. You _do_ have control over your own life. You cannot be rejected from a school based on your sexual orientation.” He stiffens, but she keeps on. “You can still do everything you’ve worked so hard to achieve. No one can take those accomplishments away from you.”

He shuts down after that. He can’t talk to her, even when she tries to get him to say anything at all. Rather than dismiss him or shout at him or any of the other things Aaron’s afraid she’ll do, she leaves her phone number with him along with a black composition notebook and a pen.

“Write it down,” she says. “I don’t have to see it, but I’d like to talk about it. I’ll come back tomorrow morning. They’re going to move you to a different room tonight.” He can only nod. “Try to eat, Aaron.” And she leaves.

He waits until he’s been moved to a different part of the hospital before trying to tell someone he wants to call his brother. The bored-looking night-attendant just points at the phone. Aaron stands in front of it like it’s personally offended him for a long time, then leaves it alone. He’s got a room to himself, at least, so he sleeps for a while longer.

When he wakes again, it’s around two in the morning. He’s hungry for the first time all day, so he goes in search of the fridge he’d seen earlier. There are a few sandwiches and some plain yoghurt. He opts for the yoghurt and finds a spoon. He eats it all hiding in the shadowy corner by the fridge. No one is on the floor when he leaves to go back to his room. He doesn’t know where they’ve gone and doesn’t really care.

But the phone is free and no one is there to listen to him. He picks it up and follows the instructions for dialing out. He still doesn’t know if he’ll be able to speak - he hasn’t tried yet - but he doesn’t really care.

It rings. And rings. And rings.

He’s about to hang up, to give up, when it clicks. There’s a long pause of heavy silence. “Aaron?” All he can do is hum a little. He can hear a door shut a few minutes later, and then a little ding that sounds like an elevator. “Well they haven’t killed you yet.” He huffs something like a strangled laugh, but no real noise comes out. “Bee would only say that you weren’t really trying to kill yourself, nothing else.”

Aaron swallows hard. “Just running away.” His voice comes out scratchy and hoarse and low. He rubs at the side of his throat with the hand still covered in gauze.

“Spare me,” Andrew drawls. It’s less antagonistic than Aaron thinks he deserves. “Nicky can’t decide if he’s upset or angry.”

“Let him be both,” Aaron says, and shrugs. “Better than either of us. You feel nothing and I’m only ever angry.”

There’s a puff of air that might be the little thing Andrew does that’s as close to a laugh as he gets. It could also be him exhaling a breath of a cigarette. They just sit there in silence for a long while.

“Go back to bed,” Andrew finally says. “Talk to Bee.” And then he hangs up.

Aaron sets the phone in the cradle and stares at it for a long time, considering. Nicky has probably told Matt by now. He’s not sure if he should call and apologize.

Before he realizes that he’s really consciously made the decision, he’s already dialing Matt’s number. It rings once, and then there’s a lot of rustling sounds on the other end of the line. He hears Matt curse a little. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Aaron says, his voice a little hollow.

“Aaron?” Matt asks, sounding shocked. “Oh my god. Holy shit. You scared the fuck out of me.”

“Sorry,” he mutters. “Figured Nicky told you already.”

“No.” Matt curses, and Aaron hears a door shut. “Not what I meant. The call. It’s the hospital’s number. I thought something happened. Fuck. No.” Matt takes a breath. “I was there, Aaron. I’m the one who carried you to Andrew’s car and inside the fucking hospital.”

Aaron hangs up the phone. He doesn’t know how to handle that. He really doesn’t. He nearly trips over the hem of the pants they gave him to wear - they’re too long - as he runs back to the room he’s in. He shuts the door and hides in the bathroom.


	4. Aaron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... His promises aren't like Andrew’s deals. His don't come with strings attached for anyone else. He only has to live with his own guilt if he breaks his promises. Andrew doesn't do remorse, Aaron knows. Andrew thinks it's a waste of time. That might work for Andrew but Aaron can't get his mind to work that way. So he knows that if he makes a promise now, it will weigh very heavily on him. ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So have some fun with my attempt at a conversation with a therapist. 
> 
> Also, there's some Twinyard action in here. It's all very sweet and nice and good. A little happy to balance out the pain.
> 
> Lots of non-verbal Aaron in this one, yo.
> 
> Aaron also shits on good literature, but, oh well.

He refuses to talk again the next day. He didn't sleep any more that night. They find him for breakfast and he goes along with everything they ask of him, except for speaking, just to make his own life easier. Betsy shows up a little later and he's taken to an office somewhere to be alone with her.

“I need you to talk to me, Aaron,” she says. “They've told me you called a couple of people last night, and that you spoke then. What’s happened since?”

Aaron moves his mouth and tries. He really does. Betsy finally rips off a piece of paper and slides it to him with a pen. He writes only Matt’s name.

“You spoke with him?” He nods. “What did he say?”

 _He found me_. His handwriting is sloppy, and it takes a moment for Betsy to decipher it. She frowns at him.

“Why does that bother you?”

He can't answer. He doesn't know how to put it into words. It's more than just saying it out loud.

Betsy folds her hands over the desk and looks at him like she's studying him. “I can't help you if you don't talk to me, Aaron. Regardless of whether or not you were trying to kill yourself, this is very serious. You can't keep trying to run from this fear that someone is going to hurt you and your entire life will be ruined if someone finds out that you aren't straight.”

He wants to scream at her. Yes they will! It's happened before! It happened to Nicky! For fuck’s sake, she knew _Andrew’s_ issues. He had the evidence. It is real and concrete.

She continues on as if his insides aren't trying to crawl their way to his outsides through his throat. “I want to help you, Aaron. I like to think that we’ve built up a healthy rapport over the years that you've been seeing me. I hope very dearly that you trust me.”

He doesn't like where this is going. At all. He swallows and the panic builds.

“Matt was there,” he croaks out, and it feels like swallowing nails. His head is pounding from the effort. “I promised him.” He sucks in a ragged breath. “Promised I wouldn't. With the pills.”

“When was this?” Betsy asks.

“Before,” is all he can choke out.

She nods. “Do you think Matt is angry with you?” He shrugs, then nods. He'd be pretty fucking angry if he was Matt. “I don't think he is. I think he's upset and worried, understandably so, but not angry.”

He grabs the pen and begins to write, because now he has a few words, but he knows he can get his mouth to work. It's unfortunate, but he will do what he has to in order to leave here as soon as possible.

_I broke my promise. I swore never to break another promise after Andrew’s, after I realized what it meant._

Betsy reads over it and presses her lips into a tight line for a moment. “The thing about promises is that no one can keep them forever. It's just not possible. You were there when I told Andrew the same thing.” She closes her eyes for a brief moment, then opens them again. “Let's discuss why you broke your promise in the first place, hm?”

They spend over two hours in the little office. By the end of it, Aaron still hasn't managed another word, but there are pages and pages of written words that Betsy collects and takes with her. He feels wrung out and exhausted.

They'd discussed the fear again, and again when Aaron kept changing the subject. It always came back to that fear. He is still afraid. Betsy had declared he was closer to realizing the fear was irrational, but he can't agree or disagree. He simply doesn't know. They'd also talked about his internalized homophobia - a subject he still found deeply uncomfortable - until he wrote ‘no' very large and underlined it. Betsy moved on to his relationship with Matt and how they needed to talk about things later. Aaron didn't want to acknowledge that, so she went back to the fear again.

She gives him a Kit-Kat when they're done. He's not a fiend for sugar like Andrew, but these are his favorite and he takes it gratefully. He barely managed to eat the nasty eggs and burnt toast at breakfast. It's past lunch now and he's not sure if he wants anything else. So he eats it there in the office and Betsy smiles a little.

“I will come back tomorrow,” she says. “Try to rest, Aaron, and eat. Your family would like to see you this evening if you’ll let them.”

He doesn't say no. He wants to, but there is a part of him that sort of does want to see them, even if he can't speak to them. He picks at the gauze on his hand.

“We need to find a better solution for you than biting your knuckles.” She gathers her things. “We can discuss it at a later appointment. Andrew still has Wednesdays, but I think every other Thursday might work well for us. We can figure out the timing once the semester starts again, okay?” He nods. “Until tomorrow.”

She holds the door for him. He retreats to his room before they can make him do any of the other therapies. He sleeps for a couple of hours, but then they wake him up and make him leave his room.

He winds up in the day room with a battered copy of _Wuthering Heights_ of all things. It's not the worst thing he's ever read, but he isn't charitable towards it either. He knows he’ll never be able to read it again, so he doesn't mind if he hates it now. He spends the afternoon curled up as small as possible and right beside the vent pumping warm air into the room. He's freezing.

At dinner, he thinks he begins to understand Andrew’s thing for sweets. It's the only edible thing there. He imagines the food in juvie was worse. He resolves then and there to help Andrew out with his ice cream fix every now and again, if only he never has to set foot in a place like this again.

After dinner, people are called away for visits with family. They are taken to a room somewhere with one of the other therapists. Aaron doesn't honestly think Nicky or Andrew will show up. He doesn't think he deserves it, really. So he sits in the day room again, after managing to use his spare words to get a blanket because he's so cold, and reads. They still won't let him go back to his room. He is glad he showered after breakfast and before Betsy showed up.

“Aaron?” The same woman who has been hounding him all day about being in the day room and actually eating something walks over to him. He gives her a flat look. She reminds him of his mother, and he hates her more for it, even if she hasn't been mean to him. “There are a few people here to see you.”

He is a little surprised. The nurse smiles at him and takes the blanket when he stands up. He abandons the book on the table by the window. She takes him to a room and, sure enough, Nicky and Andrew are there. But, so is Matt. The last two give him weird little smiles.

“I didn't fucking die,” he snaps. Nicky cringes and Andrew rolls his eyes. Matt looks away. He flops into the seat furthest from them. “Jesus Christ.”

“Is there a reason for all of this antagonism?” the therapist asks, a sweet smile on her wrinkled face.

“My cousin is a jackass?” Nicky tries.

“He's only doing it so you'll stop looking at him differently.” Andrew would know, Aaron supposes. “Having fun?”

“I will buy you your weight in ice cream if you make it so I never have to come back,” Aaron says. Andrew looks at him for a moment, then nods. Aaron nods back and wonders what sort of promise he's just agreed to. It doesn't matter. Whatever it is, this time he’ll keep it.

“Would you all like to discuss anything?” the old woman asks.

“No,” Nicky tells her. “I think we can handle it. Thanks.”

“She's not going to leave, shit-for-brains.” Aaron feels particularly annoyed by this. He sighs because he knows he shouldn't take it out on Nicky. He scrubs at his face. “Sorry, Nicky.”

“Aaron -”

“No.” Aaron cuts one look over to Matt to shut him up. He _won't_ have this discussion with him here. Not after his day with Betsy. He looks at Andrew. “Tell me you brought me something to eat other than this shit.”

Andrew lifts the plastic bag beside his chair and hands dumps it on the table between them. There are three different kinds of chocolate protein bars, four king-size Kit-Kats, and a bottle of Mountain Dew. Aaron goes for the soda and one of the Kit-kats first.

“And I swore you'd never eat that shit,” Nicky sighs, shaking his head.

“Shows what you know,” Aaron says through a mouthful of candy. “Thanks.” He notices Matt sitting quietly, just staring at him. He can't deal with Matt right now though.

“I really think we need to discuss what Aaron went through the other night,” the woman tries again.

Aaron is ready to cuss her out, to tell her to mind her own fucking business, but that won't do him any favors here. He keeps eating to keep himself occupied. He might feel like shit later, but his stomach will be full at least.

“He doesn't have to tell us anything,” Nicky says, indignant on Aaron’s behalf.

Matt’s “Why?” goes almost unheard.

Aaron choses to answer. “I have said this more times than I care to.” He really, really is starting to understand some of Andrew’s quirks a lot better now. No wonder he hates repeating himself. “I didn't sleep for three days and I had way too many energy drinks with almost no food. I got a really, really shitty text. Shit didn't work out, but I wasn't trying to kill myself.”

Nicky sags a little in his chair, like he is relieved. Aaron is almost insulted that Nicky really thought that of him. But, considering how he'd probably looked when they'd found him, he guesses he can't be that angry. Matt looks like he wants to say something, but he keeps his mouth shut. Aaron wonders if Andrew has something to do with that. He doesn't ask.

“You were trying to get high.” Andrew says it like a statement, but Aaron figures it might be a question. He shrugs anyway.

“I think this really is a lot more serious than that.” The woman is trying her best, but she's getting nowhere fast with them.

“We have a therapist,” Andrew says in a flat, bored tone. “We’ll deal with it with her.”

“Dr. Dobson?” the woman asks. “She was here today, earlier, for quite some time.”

Aaron goes very still. He will probably get himself locked up for good if he goes across the woman’s desk and attacks her, but he kind of wants to. If she says anything about what he and Betsy talked about, he thinks he might - consequences be damned. “Aaron, wouldn't you like -”

“No.”

“But -”

“He said no!” The argument comes from Andrew, Nicky, and Matt all at once. The woman raises her hands in defeat and nods her head.

Aaron starts on one of the protein bars next. It's got peanut butter in it. “They have to let me go tomorrow night.”

“I'll be here at seven,” Andrew says.

“Thanks.” Aaron nods. He looks at Nicky. “How did your finals go?”

“Oh! Um...good?” Nicky squirms. “I mean, I don't really know for sure? I can't remember them very well anymore anyway.” He sighs. “Are you really okay, Aaron? I mean...I'm worried. We’re all worried.”

“Peachy,” Aaron says flatly. “I'm on a fucking psych hold, Nicky. It's not exactly a fucking vacation, all right?” Nicky winces and sinks down in his chair. “Sorry,” Aaron sighs. “I just really don't want to be here.”

“Join the club,” Andrew mutters.

“Fuck you,” Aaron bites back, feeling as close to normal as he has in weeks.

“Boys!” The therapist seems like she's about to tear her hair out.

Nicky laughs. “That's like their version of ‘I love you.’ It's normal for them.”

“No part of this should be normal,” the woman insists. “Aaron, you don't seem to be taking any of this seriously.”

He goes still. The wrapper for the protein bar slips through his fingers. He has to bend to pick it up. After he sits back up, he stands.

“ _You_ are not my fucking therapist, so stop trying to speak to me like you know me. I didn't spend two goddamn hours with Betsy this morning so you can sit there and tell me I'm not taking this shit seriously. Now shut the _fuck_ up and let me eat the rest of my junk food in peace or let me go back to my room so I can sleep. One or the other.”

“Sit,” she says sourly. “I feel awful for Dr. Dobson if this is how you treat her.” Aaron sits slowly.

“Bee has earned our respect,” Andrew cuts in, “unlike you.” He looks at Aaron. “You've barely spoken to her for ten minutes before. Two hours?”

“Shows what you know,” Aaron grunts through a mouthful of his next protein bar. He's full, but he isn't sure if they'll let him keep the candy, so he's determined to eat as much of it as he can now. “I see her too, just not as often as you do.”

“Maybe you two can go together again?” Nicky asks. “Not all the time, but sometimes. I feel like...you're actually acting like brothers right now and I'm impressed and terrified.” He laughs a little. “This is good. So good.”

“Don't count on it,” Andrew says, and Aaron has to agree. This is a temporary truce at best. It's one of those times that they are meeting in the middle and putting things aside. Once Aaron is out tomorrow, things will go back to normal. He and Andrew will ignore each other like always.

“I can hope, right?” Nicky asks. He smiles, but Matt is the only one to attempt to return it.

“All right,” the therapist says, “that's all the time I can give you.” Aaron shoves one of the Kit-kats into his pocket before he stands and before the woman can notice. “You’ll have to take the rest of the snacks back, and then you must leave.”

Nicky gives Aaron a hug, Andrew gives him his mocking two-finger salute, and Matt...Matt just stares at him for a long time. Aaron turns away from them and walks out first. He goes straight to his room when he discovers they are allowed back in. He hides the chocolate and curls up in the bed.

He couldn't talk to Matt in front of Andrew and Nicky and that woman. He can try to talk to Matt tomorrow night, maybe. He doesn't know if Matt will still be around. There’s a chance Andrew would have interpreted that ‘no’ for Matt as meaning ‘not there and not now’ but Aaron doesn't know that for sure.

When he wakes at three in the morning, he eats his other Kit-kat and goes to the phone to call Matt. There's no freak out this time. He only gets a quiet, “I didn't think you wanted to talk to me.”

“Not in front of them,” Aaron says. “If you want to hear it, wait until I'm out of here. I can try to explain.”

“Okay,” Matt says softly. They share silence for a moment. Aaron doesn't know why he likes listening to Matt breathe. “Before you hang up on me again, can I just… I’m sorry, okay?”

Aaron freezes up. What does Matt possibly have to be sorry for? He can't think of anything. “For what?” The words hurt coming out.

“For freaking out,” Matt says. “For coming there tonight when you didn't want me to. For...not being there.”

“Tomorrow,” Aaron manages to say before he hangs up. It's all he can offer. He doesn't want Matt’s apologies. Not really. They aren't going to do anything but make him feel worse in the end.

He goes back to bed and sleeps until they make him get up for breakfast. He showers again and takes the gauze off of his hand this time. He doesn't replace it. His hand is a mess of angry red bite marks and bruising and swelling. It isn't pretty and he thinks it will probably scar.

Betsy meets with him again and he's able to talk today. They talk a lot about his past and how he hated himself for so long - and still sort of does. They talk about how he needs to learn to accept the parts of himself he doesn't like and how to do that. It's not easy and it takes even longer than it did the day before. They end up eating lunch in the office.

After they've eaten, she talks about his fear again and how to address it. She talks about coping and other things that he doesn't think will help, but he tells her he will try. And he means it. He goes as far as to promise.

His promises aren't like Andrew’s deals. His don't come with strings attached for anyone else. He only has to live with his own guilt if he breaks his promises. Andrew doesn't do remorse, Aaron knows. Andrew thinks it's a waste of time. That might work for Andrew but Aaron can't get his mind to work that way. So he knows that if he makes a promise now, it will weigh very heavily on him.

At the end of it all, even Betsy looks tired. They both eat a chocolate bar - a plain Hershey's this time, which Aaron also likes - and Aaron goes back to his room for a nap after Betsy convinces the staff to let him. He needs it.


	5. Aaron - Nicky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... Family, to Nicky, means doing everything he can for the people he loves, even if he doesn't get any recognition or thanks for it. It's never been about that. He just wants to make their lives a little easier. ...

When he wakes, it's five in the evening. He skips dinner and showers again. Someone has brought him the clothes he arrived in, washed and folded on the edge of the bed that has been his for the last two nights. He puts them on and wishes he could shave before leaving but doesn't ask. He doesn't have shoes, but he figures Nicky will probably bring his when they pick him up. 

He fills out the discharge papers half an hour early and is allowed to leave. His time is up. He makes his way down to the main lobby of the hotel. Andrew, Nicky, Matt, and Neil are all waiting. Nicky hugs him and gives him his coat. Andrew nods at him. Neil gives him a somewhat awkward smile that Aaron doesn't return. Matt hugs him, and Aaron does return that. He'd told Betsy he would try, after all.

They get into the Maserati after he puts on his shoes and Andrew takes them to a buffet for dinner. Aaron eats his fill - which is more than he usually eats - and Matt pays for it all. They head back to Fox Tower and no one is there. It's been emptied for the break, but it had to stay open for them - for him, mostly. 

Andrew and Neil go to the roof. Nicky says something about going to call Erik and vanishes into Andrew’s and Neil’s dorm with his laptop. Matt and Aaron go to Aaron’s dorm alone. 

“I'm sorry,” Aaron says once the door is closed. He means it, but he can't find the strength to put more inflection into the words. “I broke my promise.”

Matt hugs him from behind. “You scared me,” he whispers. “Like, really scared the shit out of me.” Aaron pulls away and faces Matt. He doesn't look happy at all. In fact, he looks like he's about to cry. “I thought, after what I said over Thanksgiving about telling my mom, that you just really didn't want to come for Christmas and you freaked out or something. I thought you did that because of me.”

Aaron doesn't like to lie to Matt, so he says, “I did do it because of you.” He adds quickly, “But not because of that.” He moves to the couch and sits down heavily. He's still tired. “I got a text. It was a picture. Of us. Kissing.”

Matt’s eyes go wide. “But - how?”

Aaron shrugs. “It was a blocked number. I'm pretty sure it was taken while we were in New York at Thanksgiving. I don't know who could have sent it or why they would have sent it to me and not the press.”

Matt reaches out slowly and takes Aaron’s chewed up hand. He's careful with it as he holds it. “What about it made you freak out?”

Aaron sighs. “When I was fifteen, I got jumped by a group of guys at my high school. One of them was the only guy I'd ever kissed.” Matt winces. “When I got home, Mom hit me some more and finished what one guy tried to do and broke my arm. And then you know about what happened with Nicky and all the shit with Andrew. I just - panicked. I was down to zero on my ability to think like a rational person.”

Matt kisses the thumb of his mangled hand. “No one will hurt you now.”

“They could,” Aaron says, still not quite able to let it go. “Maybe not like that, but in other ways. And then there's you. You're a pro now. This gets out? You've heard Kevin bitching at Neil and Andrew…”

Matt shakes his head. “Aaron, our star striker is kind of famous for being openly gay - and flaunting it and being all out antagonistic with it. I don't think it would be that big of a deal. Not for me, at least. It's you I worry about. I could care less about me. I'm a damn good backliner even if I do say so myself.”

Aaron tries for a small smile. Matt’s not wrong. “I can't help it. It's learned behavior. It gets stuck and it's hard to unlearn that sort of thing.” Matt nods like he understands. Aaron pulls his hand away. “I don't want to lose my chance at Perelman. I am trying for a scholarship. They can take that all away.”

“They won't,” Matt says - like he knows it for truth. “You're too smart for that.”

Aaron rolls his eyes. “Do you not realize how many graduates apply for Perelman that have 4.0s and near perfect MCATs? I'm not that good.”

“But they're going to have to see that you did everything that you did while playing exy. That's huge. It's basically impossible.” Aaron doesn't argue there because it has felt impossible every step of the way. Matt settles his hand on Aaron’s knee. “Whatever you need, if I can help you, I will. I can't help with your grades or acceptances or that stuff, but don't worry about the scholarship, okay?”

“You don't get to do that,” Aaron says flatly. “You don't get to offer to pay for my fucking grad school. I won't let you.” 

Matt sighs. “It's not like I don't have the money and it isn't going to hurt me to do it. I'm asking you, Aaron. Please. Let me do this for you. Let me help you.” Matt moves his hand to the side of Aaron’s face. 

“No. I can't. I'll figure it out on my own. I can't let you do that.”

Matt drops his hand and nods. “Okay.”

Aaron doesn't know how this conversation derailed so quickly, but he remembers his promise to Betsy and he takes a deep breath. “Am I still invited to New York?”

Matt blinks in surprise. “Well - yeah, of course. I...I didn't think you'd want to go after all this.”

Aaron rolls his eyes. “I need to get the fuck away from here, so yes, I'd like to go if it's all right. If not, if you don't want me there, I get it. I won't be mad or upset or what-the-fuck-ever.”

Matt shakes his head. He leans over and presses a quick kiss to Aaron’s cheek. “Yes, I want you to come with me to New York.” 

Aaron nods and takes another deep breath. He can't look at Matt as he says it, but he does manage to get the words out. “We can tell your mom - if you want.”

Matt is very quiet for a long moment. Aaron has to look over at him to make sure he hasn't had an aneurysm or something. He hasn't. He's just staring at Aaron with some kind of look on his face that Aaron doesn't know how to interpret. Finally, Matt shakes his head. 

“No.” He backs away from Aaron, then stands and rubs his hands over his jeans. “No. I - I don't think so.” And then he leaves. Just like that, without a word. Aaron stares at the closed door for a moment, shocked. 

Matt had put up a hell of a fight to tell her the last time they were together. So - what now? Why “no”? He doesn't understand. Aaron thought that was what Matt wanted. He's pretty sure he isn't supposed to call Matt a hypocrite for running away from his problems, just like Aaron himself does, but he thinks it anyway. 

He’s tired and he doesn’t want to go running after Matt like a child. So he takes himself to bed and curls up with his back to the wall. He doesn’t immediately go to sleep, but in the time that it takes for him to get there, no one comes in the room. He’s not really sure what to think about that, either.

* * *

Nicky has just finished the email he was writing Erik when the door to the dorm opens. He doesn’t look to see who it is. Instead, he calls out, “Don’t worry! Erik and I aren’t having crazy Skype sex or anything.” He laughs a little and it feels like the first time in days. There’s no answer, which isn’t exactly unusual, but he’d been expecting some kind of quip - he usually gets one from Neil, at least.

He sends his email and turns with one arm draped over the back of the chair. His jaw drops. Matt is sitting on the floor just inside the door, his back to the wall. He’s folded his huge body into a compact shape and he’s hugging himself and shaking. Nicky is on his feet so fast he has to reach back and catch the chair so that it doesn’t fall. 

“Matt?” Nicky asks and runs to crouch beside him. “Hey, Matt?” But Matt isn’t responding to him. Nicky touches his shoulder and then wraps himself around Matt in the warmest hug he can manage. He doesn’t know what to say, and he feels like that’s been happening way too often lately.

Erik was the one to teach him touch can be comforting, too. It’s his go-to response now. He’s gotten better at respecting other people’s boundaries - as per Andrew’s claim, he was bound to learn at some point - but he still likes to hug people and share affection as much as he can. It’s so much better than letting others suffer alone. Even if he can’t really do anything for them, he likes to offer support. 

Matt and Aaron are a mystery to him - even more of a mystery than Andrew and Neil were at first. While that whole... _ thing _ came out of nowhere, he saw Aaron and Matt grow closer. He was there from the first. Even if neither of them have ever said anything directly about their relationship, they don’t exactly deny it or try to hide it. Not from him, anyway. The rest of the world absolutely cannot know, and Nicky feels a special kind of privilege in being allowed to see it. 

Nicky knows Aaron far better than he knows Matt, and that honestly worries him sometimes. He’s been afraid for a long time that Aaron threw himself at Matt after whatever broke him and Katelyn up (he never did get that story out of Aaron). Now he’s afraid Matt is seeing the darker side of Aaron and can’t handle it. He privately thinks Matt would be way too much of a jerk to leave Aaron over this, considering everything Matt’s done before, but he doesn’t dare say that out loud. He doesn’t know what’s going on yet. He has to reserve all judgment until he has more information.

“What’s wrong, Matt?” Nicky whispers and tries to catch his eyes. Matt’s are sort of glazed over, but he does respond a little to the direct look. “Come on, let’s at least sit on the couch, okay?” Nicky struggles to pull Matt’s bulk up from the floor, but once he’s on his feet, Matt moves easily enough wherever Nicky directs him. Nicky needs to remember to thank Neil for the couch again once they’re settled. This would be a lot less comfortable on the beanbag chairs.

Matt is scratching at his elbow. Nicky takes his hand and holds it so he won’t scratch at the old scars. Those have faded even more since Nicky’s freshman year, and it’s a blessing. Nicky has long said that someone as hot as Matt doesn’t need any scars to detract from his beauty - then again, something about the scars has always given him an edge of something else. Nicky’s stomach tightens. God. That’s not why he and Aaron are together, is it?

“Matt, I have to ask you a question,” Nicky says, because now that the thought is in his mind, he can’t get it out. He’s never thought this before, but considering… Well, he can’t just ignore it. “You and Aaron...you don’t get high together or anything, do you?”

There’s a significant lack of reaction, but Matt shakes his head. “I’ve stopped him a couple of times, and he’s stopped me, but no. We haven’t.” He looks up at Nicky. “I don’t know if I can be here.”

“What do you mean?” Nicky rubs his hands over Matt’s. He wants to understand, he really does. He just hopes to God that Matt isn’t saying what he thinks he is. “You’re not...breaking up with Aaron, are you?”

“Maybe?” It’s a soft, broken whisper. Matt isn’t looking at him, but down at his lap. “Aaron  _ was  _ running away from me. Someone sent him a picture of us kissing. He did all of that because of a picture of us. I…” Matt choked on a sob. “How do I deal with that, Nicky? Is he really that...that disgusted by us - by being with me?”

Nicky really doesn’t know how to respond to that, which, honestly, doesn’t feel good. He always has something to say. But he certainly doesn’t right now. He’s picked up on a lot of Aaron’s homophobia as a projection of what he feels about himself, but they’ve never talked about it. Nicky always felt like it was taboo. He’s told Aaron to tone it down when Aaron got entirely too hurtful, but he’s never asked Aaron for anything more than that. It was a fight Aaron had to fight with himself, and dear God, Nicky  _ understood _ . 

He opens his mouth to try to say something, but what can he say? “Matt.” And that’s all he manages. Matt’s crying now, and he looks so broken down by everything that all Nicky can do is wrap his arms around him again and hold him. He wants to cry too. “What did he say to make you leave?”

“He wants to tell my mom,” Matt croaks out between little gasps. He’s surprisingly quiet when he cries for how loud he can be otherwise. 

“Then why...why would you give up on him now?” Nicky takes Matt’s face in his hands and shakes him a little. “This is  _ huge  _ for Aaron, don’t you see that?” It’s impossible is what it is, and Nicky kind of wants to run over to his and Aaron’s room screaming at the top of his lungs with joy, but he can’t leave Matt like this. 

“Yeah, but fuck,” Matt knocks Nicky’s hands aside. He’s not mean about it, or rough, but Nicky definitely feels like he isn’t wanted anymore. “He almost killed himself! He thinks if people find out we’re… whatever… then he’ll lose everything. That he won’t get into med school and he’ll lose his scholarship and everything. It’s so fucked up and I don’t know how to make him see that that isn’t going to happen.”

Nicky just shakes his head. “You won’t be able to. That’s Aaron’s battle to fight. All you can do is support him and help him fight it.” He looks down at his hands and imagine’s Erik’s fingers between his, giving him strength. “If you can’t be that support, then maybe it might best for you to let him find that support in the people that love him.” Nicky looks back up at Matt and settles his face into something firm and decidedly less nice. “I won’t ever forgive you if you just walk away from him without at least talking to him and letting him know what’s going on first.”

“Not tonight,” is all Matt says. He stands and looks at Nicky. “I’ll talk to him, but not tonight. And I can’t stay here.” He leaves and Nicky doesn’t watch him go. He’s too busy frowning over at his laptop and wishing he could talk to Erik in person. 

Nicky is about to go back to his and Aaron’s room when Andrew and Neil finally come in. He gives them an approximation of a smile. They both notice, but only Neil asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Matt’s not staying here tonight.” Nicky stands and goes to get his laptop from the desk he’d left it on. Poor Neil is still too oblivious to have noticed Aaron and Matt being together, so Nicky doesn’t want to say anything in front of him. He looks at Andrew and says, “It’s...complicated.” 

“As long as he doesn’t actually try to kill himself this time, it’s not my problem.” They both know he’s talking about Aaron. Andrew goes to the bedroom without another word. Nicky winces and Neil looks between them, confused. Nicky waves him away and tells him goodnight before going back to his and Aaron’s dorm. 

It sounded callous, but Nicky knows he can’t do anything about that. Andrew isn’t like most people. He’s had to accept that. He can remember the weird little back-and-forth between Andrew and Aaron back at the hospital when Aaron said he’d give Andrew his weight in ice cream if he never had to go back to a place like that again. Andrew would probably kill Aaron himself rather than actually try to help. It’s not right, to Nicky, but what’s right and wrong to him aren’t the same thing to Andrew. 

Nicky is quiet when he goes back into his room. He isn't sure if Aaron is sleeping or not, but if he is, he doesn't want to wake him. Aaron’s sleep has been a mess since their sophomore year - Nicky can't stand to think about why - and he does everything he can to make that easier on Aaron. The end of the year is always hardest for him. 

No one realizes that he notices these things, but he does. It's in the way he’ll set up movie night in another room if Aaron hasn't slept well all week so that Aaron can have some quiet. It's in the way he insisted on buying the coffee pot that brews really fast cups of coffee so Aaron can have something to do to settle himself when he wakes up at impossible hours. It's in the way he knows Aaron is having nightmares again, even if he doesn't ask because he knows Aaron won't talk about it. 

They work around each other. Family means loving people despite their faults. Family, to Nicky, means doing everything he can for the people he loves, even if he doesn't get any recognition or thanks for it. It's never been about that. He just wants to make their lives a little easier. 

He checks his bank account and resolves to take Aaron shopping tomorrow. It might not help much, but a bit of retail therapy is good for the soul. And Aaron needs a new phone anyway, so they can grab that while they're out. They'll change Aaron’s number while they're at it. He doesn't change and doesn't find a pillow, but curls up on the couch with the blanket he put on the back of it for Aaron because he knows he gets cold easily and goes to sleep. 


	6. Aaron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .... In truth, it hurts to know Matt left without a word. He can't blame him for it, though. Aaron deserves it. He's put Matt through literal hell more than once. The murder, the trial, his first attempted O.D., and all the shit with his internalized homophobia... This time was too much. He still doesn't know why Matt stuck around for so long to begin with. Matt deserves better, just like Katelyn deserved better. Aaron is too broken, too fucked up for anyone. He has to accept that and move on. He thinks he can. School work and exy keep him busy enough, at least, to distract him. ...

Aaron wakes up at two thirty in the morning to a nightmare. It's a horrible concoction of memory and pure fear. Drake is the one beating him at fifteen and saying those horrible things, while everyone he knows only watches and tells him he deserves it. He's sweating and panting when he sits up. He has to go shower to get all of the awful feelings to go away, and even that helps only marginally. 

When he goes to the kitchen for something to drink, he sees Nicky curled up on the couch asleep. He doesn't question why Matt isn't there. He honestly didn't expect him to be after the way he bolted earlier. He figures he probably deserves it. So he grabs a bottle of water, chugs it, and then wakes Nicky up. 

“Go to bed,” he says. “You didn't have to sleep out here.”

Nicky yawns and smiles up at him bleerily. “I didn't wanna wake you up. What time is it?”

“Like, three,” Aaron says, shrugging. “Whatever.” Nicky frowns some and doesn't do more than sit up and slide over. Aaron sits beside him on the couch. 

“You feeling any better?” Nicky asks. No. He isn't. But he just shrugs. Nicky takes that for what it is. “I thought we could go shopping today. Maybe get you a new phone?” Aaron shrugs again. “You know you can always come to Columbia with us, right?”

That gives Aaron pause. He'd been planning on going to New York for so long that he hadn't considered it. He nods, and thinks, yeah, he will. It might be better that way. He and Nicky can drink themselves blind and goof off doing all the stupid shit they used to do together. Nicky will be leaving after next semester and going back to Germany, after all. 

“I'm sorry for taking all my shit out on you all the time.” The words are out of his mouth before he even realizes what he's saying. Nicky looks like he's about to cry. Aaron lets him hug him tightly for a moment, then gently pushes him away. “I'm working on it,” is all he can say. 

“That's all I can ask for,” Nicky says with a tearful smile. He looks at his phone and grimaces. “We can talk about it more tomorrow. I want a little more sleep. You should try, too.” Aaron doesn't respond. Nicky pats him on the shoulder on the way to the bedroom. 

Aaron turns on the t.v. and kills things in video games until he feels a little more like himself. It's after eight when he feels hungry enough to eat, but there's no food in the dorm and all of the places on campus have shut down for the break. He goes to the room and grabs clothes before changing in the bathroom. He takes the time to shave, making his swollen hand work for him rather than against him. 

When he's finished, he leaves the bathroom and is surprised to find Andrew sitting on the couch. He's Aaron’s mirror image, but all Aaron can see when he looks at his twin are differences. He wonders why so few others notice. Andrew and Aaron are not the same person. 

“You could knock,” Aaron bites out. He hates that Andrew breaks in whenever he feels like it. Andrew doesn't deign to respond, just stands and walks out the door. Aaron takes that to mean he wants to be followed and does so. They wind up in the Maserati, and Aaron gets the front seat since Neil isn't with them. 

They don't speak for the ride. Andrew takes them all the way to Columbia. Aaron is desperately hungry by now. Andrew must be as well, or either he’s heard Aaron’s stomach grumble too many times, because he stops at a greasy-looking diner that definitely isn't going to serve anything close to following their diet and they go in. 

They don't speak to each other until they both have food and it's mostly gone. Andrew has ordered the sweetest thing on the menu and poured syrup all over it. Aaron sticks to eggs, bacon, and toast. When he realizes it won't be enough, he gets waffles and mimics his brother in drowning them in syrup. 

“Matt left,” Andrew says.

Aaron feels Andrew's eyes watching him, studying him. “Figured.” Aaron keeps eating until his waffle is gone, even though he’s full. Another learned behavior: always clean the plate because the next meal might not come for a while. His mother had never been good about keeping food in the apartment. 

“He sent Neil a text early this morning.” Andrew’s tone isn't as bored as usual. Aaron looks up at him and waves his fork for him to continue. “I get the impression Nicky threatened him.”

“Hard to imagine Nicky threatening anyone, but whatever.” Aaron finishes his last bite and shoves the plate away. “I'm not surprised he left.”

“And here I was hoping for my weight in ice cream,” Andrew sighs. He looks like he wants to lick the syrup and whipped cream and powdered sugar from his plate. Aaron is very glad he doesn't. 

In truth, it hurts to know Matt left without a word. He can't blame him for it, though. Aaron deserves it. He's put Matt through literal hell more than once. The murder, the trial, his first attempted O.D., and all the shit with his internalized homophobia... This time was too much. He still doesn't know why Matt stuck around for so long to begin with. Matt deserves better, just like Katelyn deserved better. Aaron is too broken, too fucked up for anyone. He has to accept that and move on. He thinks he can. School work and exy keep him busy enough, at least, to distract him. 

“Sorry,” Aaron mutters and doesn't mean it. “Try again next year. Might have some luck.” There are connotations to that. He didn't mean to reveal them, but Andrew remembers everything and he sees far too much. 

“Don't wallow. Regret is a waste of time.” Andrew pays when the waitress comes to their table and they leave. 

He drives them to the mall - of all places - and Aaron follows silently. They go to one of the stores that sell cell phones and Andrew flicks his fingers at Aaron. Well, Aaron had been planning on doing this today anyway. He finds one he likes and has his number changed. When he goes to get his wallet, Andrew is already handing over his card to pay for it. 

“Don't pay for my shit,” Aaron snaps. He's tired of everyone trying to buy things for him. He doesn't have much, but it's enough for this dammit. 

Andrew takes back his card after it's run. He looks at Aaron and says, “Merry Christmas,” in the flattest tone possible. 

He walks out of the store and Aaron has to jog to catch up to him, but he stays a few paces behind. They wind up at the food court. How Andrew can possibly eat more is beyond Aaron, but Aaron pays for Andrew's ice cream and his stupid cookie with icing all over it and they claim a table so he can eat it. Aaron breaks open the box his new phone is in and starts setting it up. 

“With the way you put up such a fight over your Barbie doll, I’d have thought you'd be more upset.” Andrew’s taunting voice cuts straight through Aaron’s brain. He's still eating his stupid ice cream. 

“I broke up with her a long time ago, and that's got nothing to do with anything,” Aaron says. He goes back to his phone, programming in numbers and sending a few texts to the people that matter: namely, Nicky and Katelyn. Even if she isn't his girlfriend, she's still important to him. 

“Why fight for her in the first place then?” 

“Because I could.” Aaron doesn't look up from his phone as he replies to Nicky’s texts asking where he is. “Because I was tired of you controlling me.”

“I stopped and you tried to kill yourself.”

Aaron slams his hand flat on the table. It startles a few of the people around them. He switches to German to keep them out of their conversation. “Fuck you. I wasn't trying to kill myself. I won't fucking say it again.”

“Running away, was it?” Andrew taunts. “From what?”

Aaron closes his mouth. He can't talk about this. Not with Andrew. Maybe not with anyone other than Betsy now. He turns his attention back to his phone and refuses to listen to anything else Andrew might say. When Andrew leaves, he follows. 

They're back to square one, as he knew they would be. It isn't a surprise. Whatever was going on before was temporary - he knew that. They are never going to be brothers the way Nicky wants them to be. That's fine, really, because neither of them know how to handle the other. They are both highly explosive and while they are experts in bombs, neither of them can figure out which wire to cut to diffuse the other. 

Back at the dorms, Nicky is busy packing. Aaron packs too, but he can't really talk to Nicky the way Nicky wants him to. Nicky has found out Matt is gone, apparently, because he is throwing things across the room and is furious on Aaron’s behalf. 

Finally, Aaron can't take it anymore. “Just stop, Nicky!” He's heard Nicky call Matt a coward at least three times in the last ten minutes and it's grating on his nerves.

“Stop what?” Nicky turns to look at him, his eyebrows pinched and mouth drawn into a frown. 

“Stop talking about Matt. I don't want to hear it.” He shoves another shirt into his bag. “I fucking deserve it, okay? I don't blame him for not being able to deal with all the fucked up shit I've done.” 

Nicky is dead quiet for maybe two minutes. Then he's beside Aaron and sitting down on the bed in front of him. “You don't deserve that, Aaron. We all do some pretty messed up things from time to time. It's just part of life. That doesn't mean that he gets to tuck tail and run when things get hard. That's not what love is about.”

“That's not what that was,” Aaron mutters. “We don't… It wasn't... that.” He can't even say the word. There is definitely something wrong with him.

“Just because you didn't say it doesn't mean it isn't true,” Nicky says softly. “And anyway, that isn't my point. When shit gets a little rough, you buckle your seatbelt and hold on, you don't jump out of the car. If I tried to give up every time me and Erik fought, I'd be a mess all the time.”

Aaron shoves a pair of socks into his bag and refuses to look at Nicky. “I'm not going to go after him. Yeah, I fucked up, and I'm owning that, but we aren't like you and Erik. I am not you.” He turns away from Nicky and tries to leave but Nicky catches his arm and doesn't let him go. 

“I know that, Aaron. I'm not saying you should be anyone but yourself. But what Matt did? Running away without even trying to talk to you first? It pisses me off. I'm not saying you should go after him either. I think he should come crawling back to you, really, but that's not the point either. I want you to be  _ happy _ , Aaron. I thought he was making you happy.”

“Not really,” Aaron mutters. It's not really the truth and it's not really a lie. He hates himself when he's with Matt. He always does. Most of the time he can ignore it, but sometimes he can't. He has to work on the self-hate, he knows that, but Matt being around only made it worse. Now that Matt is gone, maybe he can get over everything and go back to being with a girl again. It's stupid because the attraction won't go away and he knows that, but without someone reminding him of it all the time. Well, maybe it will get easier. He doubts that too, but he can hope. 

They finish packing without Nicky saying anything else about Matt. Neil comes by a while later to see if they are ready to go and they all pile into the Maserati. It's a longer drive this time, or it feels like it anyway, but Andrew has music playing too loudly for conversation. Aaron is texting Katelyn. She'd found out about what happened and wants to talk to him later. He agrees. 

At the house, they all split up their separate ways. They have to go to the grocery store and the liquor store later, but until then, Aaron locks himself in his room and turns on music so no one can hear his conversation. He calls Katelyn. 

“How are you feeling?” she asks, and fuck, he's tired of that question. He doesn't want to take it out on the one woman who has been nothing but kind to him, though.

“Fine,” he lies, and he grimaces when he realizes he sounds like fucking  _ Neil _ . “Better. Too much caffeine and not enough sleep.” 

Katelyn sighs. “You can't do that to yourself, Aaron. You have to take better care of your body.” He knows, and she knows that he knows. She likes to remind him, though, so he doesn't snap at her. “I am really worried about you.”

“I'll be okay,” he mutters. He isn't sure that he will be, but he's going to try. That's all he can do, he thinks. “I really don't want to talk about it anymore.”

Katelyn is a goddess, he thinks, because she changes the subject and distracts him with things like their last set of classes and how they graduate soon and how she got her acceptance letter to Perelman as well. He's more proud of her than he is of himself. She talks about her plans for the break and what her siblings have been doing. She distracts him for almost two hours, and he is perfectly content to let her talk. 

Nicky knocks for him when it's time for them to leave. He tells her he will text her, and they say their goodbyes. Katelyn is a wonder to him, and he desperately hopes she finds someone worthy of her. She deserves the world. 

They get what they need and head back to the house. They plan to go to Eden’s, so Aaron changes into something more appropriate and leaves with them. He drinks himself stupid. It feels oddly refreshing to do so. He and Nicky laugh at everything and anything - up to and including Neil getting drunk for one of the first times in public. Andrew is beyond annoyed with all of them and makes them leave early. Which is fine. 

Aaron drinks two bottles of water and makes Nicky do the same before he wanders up to his room. He plugs his phone in so it can charge and falls into his bed. He hasn't been here in so long that he should probably wash the sheets. He resolves to do that tomorrow and falls right to sleep. 

He has nightmares again. This time, he is the one beating up Nicky. Just him. He does so much worse than the four men ever managed. Andrew doesn't stop him, either. He feels the words burn his lips and tongue as he says awful, horrible things. In the end, it's Neil that stops him. He shoots him, point-blank in the head. 

He falls out of his bed and has to grab his trash can to vomit. Someone is banging on his door. He can't tell them to go away because he's still puking. The door opens a couple of minutes later. It's Andrew. 

“What happened?”

“Get the fuck out,” Aaron pants. He is still dressed in the clothes he went to the club in. He's sweaty and uncomfortable. He knows he won't sleep again tonight, so he might as well shower. 

“No. What happened?” Andrew is angrier when he asks this time. Probably because he had to repeat himself, Aaron thinks. 

“I had a fucking nightmare. Leave me alone.” He shoves the trash can away and sits with his back against the edge of his bed. His hand hurts. When he looks down at it, it's bitten into again and bleeding. He sighs out a curse and wraps his hand in the hem of his shirt. Andrew still hasn't budged. “Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

“You don't make noise when you have nightmares,” Andrew says. 

Aaron grimaces and checks his hand. It's not really bleeding but it hurts. “Yeah, well, first time for everything.” He sways as he climbs to his feet. It's still dark outside but he doesn't know what time it is. He doesn't think he got much sleep. That's nothing new. 

He and Andrew stare at each other for a long moment. It might be some sort of test, but Aaron doesn't know the rules and doesn't care to win. Finally, Andrew leaves. 

Aaron gathers clean clothes, grabs a towel from the linen closet, and makes his way to the bathroom. He takes his time in the shower. No one else is up, so he doesn't care. Andrew can go fuck himself for all he cares. He digs out the first aid kit when he finishes dressing and wraps up his hand as well as he can on his own. He might have to ask Nicky to redo it later. 

With nothing else to do, he goes back to his room for his phone and then sits in front of the t.v. with the volume turned low. He doesn't really care what's on, but it's something about deep space and it might be interesting enough to hold his attention. He lays down on the couch after going back upstairs for a pillow and his blanket. If he can sleep, he'd like to. 

He watches the show and lets his eyes close. The moment they do, the nightmare comes back full force. He decides sleep isn't worth it and sits up after cocooning himself in the blanket. He is so fucking tired and all he wants to do is sleep, but each time he gets close, he remembers the nightmare and he jerks awake again. He doesn't know what to do, so he makes coffee and actually looks at his phone for the first time. 

There are three messages. He isn't terribly surprised that the number isn't in his phone yet, since he didn't have all of the numbers from his old phone memorized. Katelyn said she'd pass on his new number to their study group, so he doesn't think much of the messages at first and doesn't pay attention to the number. 

_ Im srry _

_ Talked to mom told her everything _

_ Can i see u? _

Aaron blinks down at his phone. He looks at the number. It's Matt’s. He doesn't know how Matt got his number - he blames Nicky - but he doesn't respond. He doesn't want to see Matt. He's trying not to even  _ think  _ about Matt. He shoves his phone into his pocket and goes back to the coffee. He will the pot to brew it faster, but of course it doesn't. 

Andrew and Neil come into the kitchen just as the pot finishes up. Aaron takes the first cup for himself, fixes it the way he likes it, and goes back to the living room where he cocoons himself once more. The space show is still on, which is good. He kind of likes it. Andrew joins him a little later on the other end of the couch. Neil leaves through the front door a while later, dressed for a run. Aaron thinks that's a pretty good idea, actually, but he won't go with Neil and it's too cold anyway. 

He and Andrew do not speak until Andrew’s coffee is gone. Then Andrew says, “You only slept for three hours. This is a problem.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Aaron really isn't in the mood. He doesn't want to deal with Andrew, Matt, the sleeplessness, and the nightmares. It's too much for one morning. “Can't you just go back to hating me and ignoring me? Things work out better that way.”

Andrew says nothing back to that. Aaron thinks he's won, at least until Neil comes back an hour later. He goes to the bathroom to shower and Andrew stands. He says as he leaves the living room, “I don't hate you.”

Because he is a little shit and particularly antagonistic this morning, Aaron snorts. “No, guess not. You have to care about something to hate it, right? That's what you always say.” 

“Spare me your pathetic self-loathing,” Andrew says, and leaves. It strikes a nerve whether Andrew intended for it to or not. 

Aaron gathers himself and his blanket and he retreats to his bedroom. He curls up in his bed and he tries to sleep, but nightmares keep coming back to haunt him. They are different every time. Sometimes they feature his mother. Sometimes they are of Nicky or Andrew getting hurt again - usually he is the one hurting them. He feels even more exhausted when he gets up a little before noon than he did when he went back to bed at eight. 


	7. Aaron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ....He’s not that lucky. Of course he isn’t. He can hear more knocking and more people calling for him, asking if he’s okay. But he can’t answer them. They just don’t understand that. Even if he wanted to talk to them, he can’t. He’s shaking and scared because he doesn’t want to go back to the fucking hospital but he’s afraid they might make him if they find him like this. He knows he’s being ridiculous. He shouldn’t be crying like this, over Matt, but he can’t seem to stop....

The day is terribly long and seems to get longer as it goes on. He keeps going back to those messages from Matt, but he refuses to respond to them. He can’t. He doesn’t know what to say. 

Matt  _ left _ . And he has too much time on his hands right now to think about just how much that actually fucking hurts. What is he supposed to do? Honestly. 

He doesn’t want to talk to Nicky about any of this shit because Nicky’s overwhelming optimism is nauseating on Aaron’s good days - and this is a particularly bad day. So he reverts back to his silence, grunting responses only when asked direction questions and pretending like he’s ignoring everyone the rest of the time.

He also doesn't want to talk to Nicky because he can remember when Nicky left for Germany. When Nicky left  _ him _ . And he understands now why it was so necessary for Nicky to do that, but back then he was alone. And Nicky left. And he will leave again. A small part of Aaron still resents Nicky for that.  

Back when things between Matt and himself were just starting, after their first kiss, Matt told Aaron all the time that all he wanted was for Aaron to be happy. Nicky says shit like that too. Aaron thinks back and realizes that maybe he had be some form of happy, at least compared to the way he feels now. He just feels empty. He’s not really angry or sad or anything; there’s nothing at all. 

He skips lunch, and no one else is willing to offer any suggestions for their dinner so he cooks. It’s just chicken and boxed couscous and green beans, but it’s the only thing he can think of that doesn’t make him want to puke again. Standing in front of the stove makes him think of Matt, and he tries to shake the memories away, but they keep flooding in.

He remembers the first time Matt learned he could actually cook and how shocked Matt had been. It really pissed Aaron off, because, what, guys can’t cook? But Matt just gave him that stupid grin and shook his head and said that he was just impressed, was all. After that, Matt started asking him to cook certain things he could never manage on his own. Aaron would always scoff at him and call him an idiot because, “Come on, Boyd, how hard is it to follow a recipe?” Chemistry is his best subject for a reason. 

He remembers the way Matt would sometimes come up behind him and wrap him in a hug and just watch him. He was always in the way, with his stupid big self. Aaron wants to punch something because his throat feels tight and his eyes are burning and  _ why the fuck does he want to cry _ .

All he has to do is clench his right hand and the pain flares up, shooting straight up to his shoulder. It’s not as effective as biting his hand always is, but it works well enough to give him an excuse for the tears if anyone happens to walk into the kitchen and see him wiping his eyes on the shoulders of his shirt. He can just say he knocked it against something. 

When the food done, he fixes himself a plate and a glass of lemonade and takes it up to his room. Andrew hates that he eats in his room, but he doesn’t want to be around anyone else right now. He hasn’t wanted to be around anyone else all day. So he kicks his door shut behind him and is a little satisfied at the loud slam and Nicky’s shout of protest. 

He forces himself to eat every bite he’d fixed for himself. After, he just leaves the plate by the door for the next time he goes downstairs. They aren’t going to Eden’s tonight, which is perfectly fine by Aaron, so he digs out his laptop and dicks around on the internet looking for a distraction. He ends up giving up on that attempt within an hour and finds a book instead, one he’s already borrowed from someone in the study group that’s already taken Physiology II. He doesn’t really want to start studying, but he has nothing better to do. The rain that’s been falling all day is relaxing, but he doesn’t want to fall asleep, either, and reading will keep his attention.

Sometime later, he’s read the first two chapters of the textbook. He has to pee, so he takes his plate and glass with him. Down in the kitchen, someone has already cleaned up and done the dishes. He suspects Neil because Nicky doesn’t do dishes unless someone holds a gun to his head, but he doesn’t say a word. He washes his own things and leaves them in the rack to dry. It’s late, he thinks, but he left his phone on silent earlier and has been ignoring it with the same determination that got him through his MCATs last year.

He’s passing through the living room when the doorbell rings. No one else seems to be around. He can guess that Neil and Andrew are either out back smoking or upstairs, and Nicky is probably in his room Skyping Erik. He sighs and feels put-upon. If they ordered take out, fine, but he doesn’t want to have to fucking pay for it after cooking perfectly decent food. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone either, but that’s something else entirely.

So he trudges to the front door and unlocks it. He’s never been tall enough to see through the peep-hole that came with the door, so he doesn’t bother trying to look through it. He just pulls open the door. 

“Uh. Hey.”

Aaron’s eyes go wide. Matt looks like a drowned overgrown rat standing on the front porch. His hair is plastered to his forehead and his clothes are stuck to him. It looks like he’s been in the rain for a while because even his jacket is soaked through. His team duffel is on his shoulder, but it looks pretty flat. Matt himself is rubbing at the back of his neck and trying not to meet Aaron’s eyes.

“Go away.” Aaron says his first words in hours, and slams the door so hard the windows shake. He turns on his heel and stomps up the stairs. He doesn’t care that Nicky is shouting at him about slamming doors. He slams the door to his bedroom too, and thinks a picture falls off the wall. He looks around for a moment, panicking. He’s locked his bedroom door, but that’s easy to break. He grabs the blanket from his bed and takes it and himself to the tiny closet in his room. He curls up into the smallest possible space he can manage in the back corner. 

All of the lights are off. He’s quiet. The music he had on earlier is still playing to cover any voices from downstairs - or it should be. Aaron can hear shouting, but not the words. He hears a loud thump and maybe a crash and just huddles further into his blanket. His hand hurts.

And suddenly, he’s crying in earnest. He doesn’t want Matt here. He doesn’t want to see him. He just wants Matt to go away and leave him alone forever so he can get over him and move on. He wants to graduate and go to med school and never have to worry about being found out ever again. He doesn’t want to hurt anymore.

He’s biting down on his blanket because he can’t chew on his hand. It doesn’t work as well, but it does muffle the sound at least. He hates himself so much. What does he need to do to make Matt go away? How does he get rid of something that he really doesn’t want to get rid of?

That’s the problem. He doesn’t really want Matt to leave. He wants Matt to stay and tell him it’s okay. Some fucked up part of him misses the way Matt calls him perfect and good, even though he knows he’s not. It’s so nice to hear when all he’s ever heard is how he’s not good enough, not smart enough, not talented enough, not quiet enough, a monster, a murderer… 

He wants Matt so badly it hurts, but he hates himself so much that he doesn’t know how to handle it. That’s not true. He’s been getting better about that, slowly, even if it’s taken him nearly a year to even make a tiny bit of progress. Betsy thinks he can get better. Maybe he can, maybe he can’t. He doesn't know.

Matt seemed okay with him before...but obviously Matt really wasn’t okay with anything. Aaron chokes on a sob and covers his mouth with his hand and the blanket. He’s so broken. All he can do is ruin everything he touches. He’s not good enough. Matt needs to leave. Now, before Aaron can finish corrupting him. 

“Aaron?” 

He tenses up and curls himself even tighter into the back corner of the closet. He can’t see the bedroom door because the closet door is closed, but he can hear the knob rattle. Whoever it is knocks and calls for him a few more times, but he doesn’t answer. He can’t. He can’t face Matt. He can’t face any of them. He’s selfish and he’s wallowing in his own self-pity, but he can’t stop. He just wants to stay here quietly until everyone leaves him alone, until they all forget about him. 

He’s not that lucky. Of course he isn’t. He can hear more knocking and more people calling for him, asking if he’s okay. But he can’t answer them. They just don’t understand that. Even if he wanted to talk to them, he  _ can’t _ . He’s shaking and scared because he doesn’t want to go back to the fucking hospital but he’s afraid they might make him if they find him like this. He knows he’s being ridiculous. He shouldn’t be crying like this, over Matt, but he can’t seem to stop. 

“Aaron,” and he knows it’s Matt this time, “just...knock back once if you’re okay.” It takes a moment, but Aaron reaches out a shaking hand and punches it hard into the wall. It’s not quite enough to put a hole through the drywall, but it does leave a dent and he feels a little better. “Okay. Okay. Thank you.” 

“Stop trying to destroy the house!” Nicky shouts. “Fuck, Aaron!” 

He wants to laugh. He can't do that either, though. So he sits quietly with his mangled right hand covering his mouth and his left hand throbbing from where he punched the wall. It's so funny how Andrew gets away with being destructive but Aaron does not. He immediately regrets thinking about  _ why _ and instead bites down on the blanket again. 

“So…” Nicky tries for a conversational tone, but he's almost yelling so Aaron can hear him and it doesn't come out quite right. “Andrew and Neil are gone. It's just me and Matt. Will you come talk to us?”

He wants to scream at them and tell them to go away and leave him alone. When he opens his mouth, no words come out. He tries again with the same effect. He's so angry with himself that he punches the wall again. The skin on his knuckles breaks. 

“Stop hurting yourself!” Nicky shouts, and he sounds almost hysterical. “I'll make Matt break down the fucking door, Aaron, I swear!” 

Aaron wonders where this sudden concern for him hurting himself comes from, and then he remembers the last few days and it doesn't seem so surprising. Time is becoming slippery, because, how long has he been in here? He doesn't know and can't remember. It's got to be the lack of sleep again. That's what's messing everything up. 

He's so tired. Fuck. He's slept maybe six hours in the last two days. He needs more sleep than that, he knows, but the nightmares have been so bad he doesn't know if he'll ever sleep again. And yet, he still finds himself sliding into the most comfortable position possible in the corner and huddling up in his blanket. He props his head against the wall and closes his eyes. 

He sleeps in the closet, a tiny ball of exhaustion and stress. Of course the nightmares come, he’s expected them after all. He has to watch himself hurt his family and himself again and again. When he jerks awake, he hits his head and hand on the wall and spews out a string of angry curses at the pain. He’s cramped and aching and still so fucking tired.

He can’t stay in the closet hiding like a child forever. He knows that. Still, he doesn’t really want to leave. Finally, it’s a need to pee and the desire to shower away the stink of fear and sweat that makes him shuck his blanket and stand. He's got a headache and he’s cramped from staying curled up in such a small space for so long. Both hands hurt now, too, and he’s so angry with himself.

He gathers up a change of clothes. It’s a pair of sweats and an old band tee that’s far too big and was a hand-me-down from long ago, but it’s soft and he likes it anyway. He unlocks his bedroom door and opens it slowly, cautiously. There’s no one waiting outside in the hall to yell at him for punching a hole in the wall or slamming doors. The sigh of relief he lets out is soft and quiet, but he can’t stifle it. 

After living in this house for so long, Aaron knows the exact path to take - even in the pitch dark - to avoid making a single sound. He values silence more than most people understand. If his mom was asleep, he wanted her to stay that way, so his entire existence became one of total silence. It’s an art he perfected early in his life and he knows he will never forget how to slip back into it. 

The sounds he cannot control, like the toilet flushing or the shower running, are typically sounds that don’t wake people up. They are normal house sounds and so don’t register for most that there’s a reason to wake up. So when he sees Matt asleep on the couch and the t.v. on, he holds his breath, but sneaks by him to the bathroom like a mouse.

Aaron thinks that’s an appropriate metaphor for himself. He is a mouse. He’s small and light and a pest. He destroys things and spreads annoyance and anger like a disease. No one loves mice, they only want to catch or kill them. He wonders how long it will take before someone truly manages to finish him off as he touches the scar on his hip from where a bullet ripped into him.

In the bathroom, he turns on the shower first to cover the sounds of his movements. He strips down and just stares at himself in the mirror for a moment. His left arm has a bruise from where he’d had an IV in the hospital. His right hip bears the messy scar from when he got shot. His right arm has a scar across the outside, just below his elbow, from where it was broken. On his chest, over his heart, is a small scar from when his mother threw a liquor bottle at him and it shattered and cut him.

He touches that scar and remembers how angry she’d been. He was so high at the time he hadn’t felt the sting from the glass or the alcohol. He never knew what she was mad about, only that she was. That night, as he patched himself up as well as he could, he’d resolved to take the first aid class offered at school. His mother wasn’t going to stop hurting him, but he could at least take care of himself. 

That little first aid class sparked something in him. He wouldn’t call it a passion, since he was doing all of that for purely selfish reasons, but he cared about it. It was, perhaps, the only thing to ever really interest him. Science became interesting. Biology, and later anatomy, were utterly fascinating. He never thought he’d be able to afford college, but he’d thought about trying to be an EMT or something. Blood and bodily fluids didn’t gross him out - they just were.

And then Wymack came to sign Andrew and Andrew wouldn’t go without him and Nicky. Aaron still doesn’t know why Andrew cared, but he owes Andrew his education, and that is hard to accept. He thinks about Matt’s offer to pay for his fees at Perelman and is instantly pissed off again. He already has a few scholarships - academic scholarships. He is going to go the rest of the way on his own. He just needs more money, a few more scholarships. He’ll get them - he has to.

He turns away from the mirror and steps into the shower. His hands sting horribly at first, but the hot water helps his muscles relax. His headache still isn’t gone, though. Andrew refuses to keep anything stronger than Tylenol in the house, but Aaron will take that over nothing and the pain. 

He is not prepared for the smell of coffee and the lights to be on when he comes out of the bathroom. His heart leaps into his throat and his stomach sinks into his feet. The living room is empty, but he can see through to the kitchen where Matt is propped up against the coffee maker.

“Can I talk to you?” Matt asks. There is a large, dark bruise across the left side of his face. He looks tired and rumpled from sleeping on the couch. 

Aaron just stares at him. He feels glued to the floor. There are words, somewhere, but they aren’t quite making it to his brain, much less to his mouth. His head is still pounding. For a moment, he thinks he might puke.

“Aaron…” Matt sighs. “I really, really need to talk to you. I have a lot to say, but I have to know you’re going to listen to me.”

Nothing about what Matt is saying implies that Aaron has to speak back. He thinks maybe he can deal with that. He just wants Matt to leave. He guesses this is supposed to be Matt’s breakup speech or something. Whatever.

Aaron drops his dirty clothes by the bathroom door and goes into the kitchen. He finds the Tylenol and takes two with some water before pouring himself a cup of coffee. Matt says nothing, but follows him out to the living room. Aaron steals the blanket Matt was using and wraps himself in it. He sips his coffee for a while and hates that Matt is just staring at him. He waves his hand as a signal for Matt to speak. 

Matt takes a deep breath and Aaron involuntarily tenses and leans away from him. Matt frowns. “Aaron…” He shakes his head and exhales loudly. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He finally looks away from Aaron, but Aaron can see him twisting his fingers together the way he does when he gets nervous. 

“I freaked out and ran away,” Matt says softly. “I felt so bad because I thought you’d done…that...because of me...because of us. I know you don’t want people to know, I  _ know  _ it, but I don’t understand it. And I’m sorry for that. I wish I could understand why you’re so afraid, I really do.” 

Matt huffs a loud sigh and scrubs his hands over his face. Aaron really wishes he’d just hurry up and get to the point. He doesn’t want to sit here, so close, and know Matt will be walking away soon. He huddles down further into the corner of the couch and sips his coffee. 

“Anyway,” Matt sighs, and looks at Aaron. He shifts his entire body so that he’s facing Aaron. He reaches out with one hand as if he’s about to touch him, but at Aaron’s cold glare, he takes his hand back. “I talked to my mom. She picked me up at the airport and saw how upset I was. Everything just kinda poured out of me. I’m sorry. But she made me realize something. I ran away because I was afraid of losing you. I don’t want to lose you.”

Aaron stares at him like he’s grown two heads. The bruise doesn’t help. He has so much he wants to say right now that he doesn’t know what to say first. It’s a far cry from a few minutes ago when he had no words at all. He says, “What happened to your face? You should ice that.”

Matt smiles sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck like he does when he feels guilty about something. “Andrew punched me.”

“Why?” Aaron can’t understand why Andrew would do something like that to  _ Matt  _ of all people. Matt’s never done anything to Andrew before. In fact, Matt is probably one of those most respectful of Andrew - after the mess at Eden’s with the speedballs. That’s been years ago, but Aaron still feels guilty about it, even if Matt is grateful.

Matt tilts his head to the side and just stares at Aaron for a moment, a little frown on his face. “Because I hurt you,” Matt says at last.

“No you didn’t,” Aaron snaps. It’s a gut reaction - automatic and harsh. He doesn’t take it back.

Matt takes it in stride. “Andrew thinks I did. When he saw me, he punched me. I guess I deserved it. No. I know I did. I’m a bastard, I know. I couldn’t handle any of this. I’m sorry, Aaron.” He reaches out to Aaron again. Aaron doesn’t tell him not to, so Matt settles his hand on Aaron’s knee. “You are so important to me, Aaron. I want to try to understand better, to not be such a jackass, to help you out, if I can. I need to be there for you when you need me.”

Aaron just stares at him, again, mouth open. It takes him far too long to process what Matt is actually saying to him. Matt takes his hand, the one he’s chewed to bits, and holds it carefully, tenderly. He presses barely-there kisses to the bite marks, and Aaron sees more than feels them. He doesn’t understand.

“Aaron,” Matt says, “I don’t want to lose you. But, I need to know what you want.”

What does Aaron want? He wants to dive into Matt’s arms and sleep on him like he’s done so many times before. He wants to kiss Matt and get ice for the bruise on his face. He wants to tell him it will all be okay and that he’s sorry too.

But he can’t. Just because he wants these things doesn’t mean he gets to have them. He hasn’t worked for this, has he? He doesn’t know. In some ways, it feels like he has, but in other ways he doesn’t think so. Matt’s done all the work and that’s not fair. Won’t it be easier to end things now, before Aaron really fucks everything up - like he knows he will? Won’t that be kinder to Matt in the end?

He opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. He can’t tell Matt “no”. He  _ wants  _ him, even if he doesn’t know why or understand anything that’s between them. Pretending it was nothing more than convenience isn’t going to work anymore, especially when it’s been anything but convenient since Matt’s graduation. This feels like so much more, and yet it really isn’t - it’s just Aaron actually admitting it for once. Can he do that?

This is almost too much. He’d been so ready to accept that Matt was  _ gone _ . Now Matt is here in front of him spewing apologies and saying he wants to  _ stay _ . Aaron doesn’t know what to do. He knows what he  _ wants _ , but that’s not what he  _ deserves _ , and -

“Stop thinking,” Matt whispers. “I can hear your brain going into overdrive. Just...what do you want, Aaron? Without all the rest.”

Aaron swallows hard. It’s painful to open his mouth and get his tongue to work. He says, “You,” so softly he almost can’t even hear himself.

Matt smiles brightly. “Then we’ll figure the rest out together, okay?” He moves his hand up to Aaron’s jaw and brushes his thumb in the hollow in front of his ear, then presses down just hard enough to remind Aaron to stop clenching his teeth. Aaron’s hands are shaking, so Matt takes the cup of coffee away from him and sets it on the low coffee table in front of the couch. 

“But -” Aaron tries to argue.

Matt shakes his head. “Not right now. We can work most of it out later. All I need from you right now are two things. One is a promise.” Aaron just stares at him, unmoving, so Matt sighs. He leans closer and presses his forehead to Aaron’s. “I need you to promise me you will never go another forty-eight hours without at least eight hours of sleep again, okay?” After he speaks, Matt leans away so he can look at Aaron. 

“I can’t,” Aaron whispers. He leans over so that his forehead is pressed to Matt’s chest. He laughs a hollow laugh. “I’d already be breaking it.”

Matt’s arms wrap around him and Aaron wants to cry again, but he doesn’t let himself this time. He feels  _ safe _ , and that - that is so rare and so nice that he never wants to move. “What do you mean?”

“Haven’t slept more than three hours a night since I got out of the hospital,” Aaron mutters. He curls his arms between his and Matt’s chests. Matt lifts him easily and moves him so that they’re tucked comfortably together with Aaron mostly in his lap. Matt adds the blanket and Aaron is ready to sleep again. For some reason, he doesn’t think the nightmares will come if he’s curled against Matt - but he could be wrong. Even if they do, at least Matt will be there to calm him down and talk him through them.

“Why not?” Matt whispers against Aaron’s hair. One of his hands is rubbing Aaron’s back while the other just holds him snug around his hips. 

“Nightmares.” Aaron hides his face in Matt’s shoulder and closes his eyes. He didn’t realize he missed Matt’s  _ smell _ . Fuck, but he doesn’t want Matt to go anywhere ever again. 

“I'm so sorry,” Matt says, and kisses the top of his head. They sit like that for a while longer, and Aaron is warm - Matt is his own personal space heater, he swears. He's got his eyes closed and even with the half of a cup of coffee he'd just had he's ready to go back to sleep. 


	8. Aaron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The door opens. No one says a word. Aaron can't hear if anyone is moving or breathing at all. Matt feels tense beneath him. He doesn't want to look, doesn't want to talk to his brother or Neil. That's too much work and he's entirely too drained right now. The last several days have been an emotional rollercoaster from hell and he feels like he's finally getting to breathe again.

But then he hears a car. He tenses. But he can't quite be assed to move. He's comfortable, dammit. And Andrew knows already. If Neil hasn't figured shit out by now, well that's his own damn problem. Matt’s hand stills on Aaron's back when the key scrapes in the lock, but Aaron doesn't try to get up. He knows Matt is smiling like an idiot even if he can't see Matt’s expression. 

The door opens. No one says a word. Aaron can't hear if anyone is moving or breathing at all. Matt feels tense beneath him. He doesn't want to look, doesn't want to talk to his brother or Neil. That's too much work and he's entirely too drained right now. The last several days have been an emotional rollercoaster from hell and he feels like he's finally getting to breathe again. 

“Hey, Matt?” Neil says, like it's a fucking question. Aaron rolls his eyes against Matt’s shoulder. Matt’s hand slides higher up his back under the blanket and it settles him again. 

“Hey man,” Matt says easily. “You guys have a nice drive?” Neil hums a little in agreement. “Cool. Well, there's coffee if you want it, I guess. I think...I'm gonna see if Aaron can get some more sleep.”

“See that you do,” Andrew says, like it's a threat. “Maybe I won't have to drug him.” 

Matt’s arms tighten around Aaron even as he sits up. Neil is staring between him and Matt like he can't quite figure out what's happening and, god, is he really that blind? But that's not important. He looks at Andrew, who is holding a white plastic bag from a drug store. He narrows his eyes. 

“You really think it's a good idea to try to drug me into sleep when I just got out of the fucking hospital for taking too many fucking pills?” Aaron snaps at his brother like he has a death wish. Maybe he does. At this point he really isn't sure. 

“As long as you aren't dumping the whole fucking bottle into your mouth,” Andrew bites back. 

“Fuck you.” Aaron stands and wraps himself in the blanket because he's cold again as soon as he's away from Matt’s warmth. “You're such a fucking asshole. I don't want to fucking sleep, Andrew! The goddamn nightmares are bad enough without you trying to make them worse with fucking sleeping pills!”

He knows he's said something to Andrew about sleeping pills giving him nightmares before. He can remember the conversation. If he can remember it, he knows Andrew does. He can't understand why Andrew - who he knows has nightmares of his own - would willingly and intentionally force him through that. 

Andrew stares at him for a moment like he is debating on what he wants to say. At the end of it, he doesn't say anything. He reaches into the bag and pulls out the little white bottle. He tosses it underhanded to Aaron. Aaron doesn't catch it, but lets it hit his chest - the same spot as the scar over his heart, how interesting - and fall to the floor. 

“Do what you want with them,” Andrew says. “I'm done trying to help you.” 

“That's not fucking helping!” Aaron shouts. “That's making it fucking worse! You're such a selfish dick! Just because you expect something to happen doesn't mean it's going to, so fucking stop with the bullshit. I'm not going to take that shit.” Aaron kicks the bottle across the room back to Andrew. “You know, if you actually cared to fucking ask what helped rather than just fucking assuming, I might have been able to tell you.” 

“Enough.” Matt and Neil are between them, both looking worn through from too much stress. Aaron supposes that this is what they get for trying to deal with Minyards. He and Andrew are too fucked up to be decent human beings. 

“Aaron,” Matt says, “he was only trying to help.”

“Bullshit. He was seeing what I'd do or something. Or looking for the simplest solution. He knows what that shit does to me.” Aaron steps easily away when Matt reaches for him. Matt doesn't try again. 

“He wants you to fucking sleep,” Neil snaps. “You call him selfish, but take a look in the mirror.”

“Why bother,” Aaron sneers, “I'm looking at my double now, aren't I?” 

“Andrew’s not the one who tried to kill himself, though, is he?” Neil bites back. 

“Have you seen what's under those precious armbands of his?” Aaron asks. “It's not quite the same, but I wasn't trying to kill myself either. And who the fuck asked you? Keep out of it.” He almost says Neil’s real name, but he holds himself back out of fear. Fear for what Andrew might do to him. He's not part of Andrew's precious inner circle anymore, so as far as he knows, he's fair game. 

“God, you two are fighting again?” Nicky comes down the stairs and stops at the end. He takes in the scene in front of him and sighs. “Why do I feel like you two are back in high school? Jesus, guys. It's like four am. Go the fuck to bed already.”

“We'd already be there if Aaron wasn't being such a jackass,” Neil says. 

Aaron is about to defend himself and insult Neil back, but it's Andrew that says, “Stop.” Neil shuts down immediately, as does Aaron. They both go totally still, even if they are still glaring daggers at each other. 

“How do you do that?” Nicky asks through a yawn. “It's like magic or something.” 

Andrew doesn't look at Nicky. He looks at Neil. “Go upstairs. I'm done listening to this.”

Neil grimaces. “Are you coming?”

“In a moment.” Neil nods to Andrew and passes by him. He fist bumps Matt on his way to the stairs and Nicky ruffles his hair. After he is gone, Andrew looks at Aaron. “You're right. I was looking for the easiest solution.” He flicks his gaze up at Matt, then away again dismissively. “I don't want him here.”

Matt looks hurt, but he doesn't look very surprised. Aaron is ready to explode. Nicky, however, is the one to step between them this time. “I said he could stay. Seeing as I'm the one who is still paying for this place, and Erik, I figured it was my call.”

“You're willing to let him stay, after -”

“After what, Andrew?” Aaron snaps. “He didn't fucking do anything.” And god, Aaron never thought he'd be defending Matt like this.

“He left,” Andrew says, cold and almost bitter. 

Aaron doesn't know if that's a personal thing with Andrew or not, but he assumes it probably is. He knows he can't fight those demons. “He came back, didn't he? You can't control me anymore, Andrew. Our deal has been broken for years. Stop trying.” 

“I'm not trying to control you,” Andrew says, cool as can be, back to acting like nothing in the world can touch him. 

“Telling me who I can and can't see or talk to, trying to fucking drug me, not letting me speak for my goddamn self.” Aaron lifts his chin. “I only lived with Mom until you fucking killed her, but that's the exact same fucking shit she used to do when she wasn't beating me. Seems pretty fucking controlling to me.” 

Nicky lets out a pained noise. “Don't say that,” he whines. “Aaron…”

“It's the fucking truth, Nicky!” Aaron looks at Matt and the bruise on his face just makes him angrier. “He fucking punched Matt. Why? Did he really think he was doing me some kind of favor?” He looks back at Andrew and narrows his eyes. “Don't fucking forget, we're both murderers.” 

Matt steps in front of Aaron before Andrew can do more than grit his teeth. “I can really tell you haven't been sleeping. You're usually not like this. Come on. Let's go upstairs and we can lay down for a bit and if you still don't sleep then we’ll figure something else out, okay?” 

Aaron looks up at him for a moment. He thinks back over what he's said and he feels ashamed. He nods and Matt reaches out slowly. He doesn't step away this time, so Matt squeezes his shoulder. “I'll be there in a second.” Matt frowns down at him, but he nods. Unlike Andrew, Matt will let Aaron fight his own battles - most of the time, at least. 

Andrew watches Matt leave from the corner of his eye. He turns his full attention back to Aaron the moment Matt has vanished up the stairs. Aaron sighs and rubs at his face with his battered hands. 

“I haven't slept or eaten right in so long now that I don't even remember what it's like to do things normally anymore,” Aaron tells his twin. “Tell Neil to keep his mouth shut about me and we won't have any more problems.” This is as close to an apology as he can get with Andrew. 

Andrew stares at him like he has turned into a different person. “I was trying to protect you, not control you.” And that is as close as Andrew will get to an apology. 

“Betsy says we both lived through two different kinds of abuse, so our views on shit like that aren't going to be the same.” Aaron is trying to reason everything away. He hopes it works. He is distantly aware of Nicky still lingering by the stairs. He wouldn't be surprised if Neil and Matt were at the top eavesdropping. “We won't ever agree on that one. Best to just let it drop.” To his surprise, Andrew nods. 

“Now if you two would just hug, I think I might die happy!” Nicky claps his hands together and he smiles brightly. “Not that I ever expect that to happen, but seriously. I think this is the fastest I've ever seen you two stop fighting. And you've apologized. Sort of. I'm so proud!” 

Aaron rolls his eyes. He turns to go to the stairs, careful not to trip on the hem of the blanket. Before he goes any further, he looks over his shoulder at Andrew. “For the record, cherries help me sleep.” He checks his shoulder lightly into Nicky as he passes him and heads for his room. 

Matt is in there fiddling with his stereo. Aaron gives him a flat look until he leaves it alone. Aaron jerks his head at the bed and Matt grins a little before shucking his sweats and climbing into the bed in his underwear and tee shirt. Matt is an oven, so this is par for the course for him, except during the summer when he sleeps in as little as possible. Aaron curls up beside him with the thin blanket still wrapped around his shoulders.

Matt had found Aaron’s comforter, apparently, because he drapes it over the both of them as Aaron burrows himself into Matt’s side. It doesn't take long before he's warm and sleepy. He is amazed at how easy it is to fall asleep with Matt there beside him. 

Aaron sleeps, and does not dream. Matt wakes him with a soft hand on his back, rubbing up between his shoulderblades and down his spine nearly to his ass. It’s oddly comforting. He doesn’t want to wake up, but since he can tell his room is bright with sunlight, he knows it’s already well into the afternoon. Still, he shifts closer to Matt and buries his face somewhere dark without opening his eyes.

Matt rolls over some, partly smothering Aaron, and laughs. “Time to get up,” Matt sings out, annoyingly happy.

“No,” Aaron mumbles into a pillow or part of his blanket - he isn’t quite sure which. “Get off.”

Matt shifts again, his arms wrapping around Aaron’s small frame. He rolls with Aaron so that Aaron is now on top of him. Aaron grabs blindly for the blanket and covers his head. It’s too damn bright and Matt is way too cheerful to deal with right now. But Matt doesn’t relent - he never does. He works his way under the blanket himself and begins to pepper Aaron’s cheeks, nose, jaw, and neck with tiny kisses.

“C’mon, babe,” Matt whines, “I’m starving.” He catches Aaron’s lips and Aaron can’t help but kiss him back. It doesn’t escape him that he hasn’t properly kissed Matt since he left New York after Thanksgiving. Matt’s arms tighten around him a fraction and he kisses Aaron a little harder, a little more desperately. 

Aaron slips one hand into Matt’s hair, glad that it isn’t gelled into spikes for once, and just brushes his fingers through it as he kisses Matt back. He was so, so sure he’d never get to do this again. He can’t really believe he’s allowed this, that this is okay. 

He breaks their kiss and rests his forehead against Matt’s with his eyes closed. It feels very close to too much, but he sort of likes it anyway. His thumb winds up stroking Matt’s temple as his other fingers twist around the short black locks of Matt’s hair. The quiet is nice, settling. 

“You okay?” Matt whispers. One of his hands rubs over Aaron’s back again, soft and slow. 

Aaron sits back a little, using Matt’s broad shoulder as leverage, and nods. “Come on, needy. Let’s go get something to eat.” Matt flashes Aaron a wide grin and lends Aaron his arm so he can climb down to the floor. Once Aaron is standing, Matt follows and quickly finds his sweats from the night before. Properly dressed, Matt bends down to kiss Aaron once more before they leave the room.

Downstairs, Nicky is folding laundry into the living room while he Skypes with Erik. Aaron tosses up one hand in a silent greeting as he passes and nothing more, but Matt goes over to say hello. That’s fine. Aaron’s issues with Erik are, contrary to popular belief, personal and secret - it’s got less than nothing to do with Erik’s sexuality. Aaron’s fine that people think that, though, because it’s easier than trying to lie. People have assumed the worst about him for his entire life - he doesn’t ever really expect them to stop.

In the kitchen, he starts a pot of coffee. It’s barely two in the afternoon. It’s not too late for lunch, but he doesn’t really feel like trying to cook anything. Instead, he looks over their collection of takeout menus. He narrows it down to Thai or wings from the place Nicky likes and carries them out to Matt. He shoves them at his chest without a word and retreats back to the kitchen to watch the coffee brew.

Matt joins him a moment later. “Nicky wants wings, but I know you really like Thai curry…” Matt looks uncertain as he holds the menus. Aaron rolls his eyes and takes the one for the Thai place and shoves it back into the drawer. Matt huffs and wrapps Aaron in a hug to the point of nearly smothering him. Aaron secretly likes these hugs, and Matt secretly knows it. 

“I just want something spicy,” Aaron says into Matt’s chest. “Wings are fine.”

Matt laughs and bends to kiss the top of Aaron’s head. “I’ll order the hottest they have, okay?”

Aaron groans and shoves Matt away. “God, you don’t know what you’re saying. That’s like ghost pepper hot. I’m not up for organ damage today. Get the volcano ones.”

“Whatever you want, babe,” Matt says, grinning like a fool as he opens the cabinet where the coffee cups are and takes one down. “Nicky said Andrew and Neil should be back soon. Do you want me to wait for them, see if they want something?”

Aaron shrugs as he pours his coffee from the mug he stole from Matt. He adds more sugar than he normally would. He’s still tired and he doesn’t think the caffeine alone will be enough to keep him awake. “You’re the one who’s starving, so don’t ask me.” Aaron sips his coffee, adds more sugar, and calls it good. It’s easier to just hop up on the counter than to sit down at the actual kitchen table, so he moves his cup to the side and plops next to it. The bonus to sitting on the counter is that he and Matt are nearly at eye-level now.

Matt props one hip on the counter beside Aaron and slides his arm around Aaron’s back. “Well, yeah, but a few minutes won’t make much of a difference.” Matt kisses Aaron’s cheek quickly. “What I’m asking is, are you and those two going to be at least civil again?”

Aaron rolls his eyes. “We’ll go back to the way things were before, when we ignored each other. It’s easier that way and no one gets pissed off.”

“You and Andrew seemed like you were getting along for a minute there,” Matt says, and uses the hand not on Aaron’s back to brush some of Aaron’s hair out of his face.

“You forget we didn’t grow up as brothers,” Aaron snaps. “We aren’t gonna act like everyone expects. For fuck’s sake, Matt, he killed my mom.” Matt groans and lowers his head as he turns away so Aaron can’t see his expression. “She was a bitch and she beat me and got me hooked on all kinds of shit, but she was still my  _ mom _ . I can understand why and even forgive him, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. What we had going on before was a truce - it was temporary. Now things can go back to normal and everyone will be happier.”

Matt moves so that he’s standing in front of Aaron. He brings both hands to Aaron’s neck and uses his thumbs to tilt Aaron’s head up so that Aaron has to look at him. “That reminds me of something. Last night I said I wanted two things from you. The first was the promise about the sleep. Now that you’ve gotten some, do you think you can manage?”

“Promise I’ll try,” Aaron mutters.

“I’ll take that,” Matt says seriously, and he nods a little. “The second thing…” Matt sighs. “Are you happy, Aaron?”

And that’s a very difficult question to answer. He doesn’t know. Not really. Sort of. He still hates himself - he shouldn’t be with a  _ guy _ , Jesus - but when he’s with Matt… “Define ‘happy’,” Aaron challenges. He needs to know what Matt considers that emotion to mean, for him. 

“What?” Matt frowns down at him. “Like, a definition or what I feel when I’m happy?”

“Either,” Aarons says with a shrug. “Both. I think...what you mean by ‘happy’ and what I consider ‘happy’ are two different things.”

“You’re reading too much into this,” Matt says, but he says it with a sort of soft, fond smile. He isn’t frustrated or angry. Aaron moves his head out of Matt’s hands and slumps forward so that he doesn’t have to look at him anymore. “Let me reword it for you, then, I guess. Do you want to keep doing what we are doing?”

“Yeah,” Aaron says, and the word is almost a whisper. He  _ does _ want this, because he realizes just how much he hated the thought of not having Matt anymore when he was gone - and when he showed back up. 

“Okay.” Matt wraps his arms around Aaron and he’s rubbing Aaron’s back again. “I know you have a hard time with...us. I know that, and I want to help but I don’t really know how. So for now, let me ask if it’s worth it. Is it worth us still being together, even if you have to suffer for it?”

Fuck but Aaron doesn’t know how Matt got so good at asking such pointed questions. Oh, wait, he does. Matt’s been dealing with  _ him  _ intimately for the last year and then some. So he thinks about it. 

He can remember how bad it was at first, about how disgusted he’d get with himself sometimes about kissing a guy. That doesn’t happen at all anymore. It’s just… He’s afraid of other people finding out. That’s what it boils down to lately. And hell, Nicky, Andrew, and even fucking Neil know. Whoever took that fucking picture knows, too. There’s very little he can do about people finding out. That scares the fuck out of him, but the damage is done and he can’t fix it. 

Matt is patient. He doesn’t ask Aaron for an answer while he works it out. He just rubs his back and kisses the top of his head every now and again. He slips his hand under Aaron’s shirt and scratches his back lightly; it feels wonderfully relaxing. Aaron thinks, again, that Matt is far too good for someone like him.

“I’m not suffering,” Aaron says, his hands wrapping around Matt’s waist to pull him a little closer. He takes a breath and has to tell him, because it’s important. “It’s not as bad as it was. Of course you’re worth it.”  _ Matt _ is worth so much more than Aaron can even really comprehend. 

Yes, Matt did leave, but Aaron still doesn’t blame him for it. He can’t. After everything he’s put Matt through, how can he blame Matt for being overwhelmed? It took Matt less than two days to come back, and probably less time than even that considering all of the travel time he had to put in - especially right here at Christmas. He thinks about the text messages and knows Matt was regretting things sooner than Aaron gives him credit for. He doesn’t make anything easy. He’s a Minyard - easy isn’t part of his genetic makeup. 

“Okay,” Matt says, and Aaron can hear the smile in his voice even if he isn’t looking at him. So Aaron looks up - he is indeed smiling - and moves his arms to Matt’s neck. He pulls him down for a kiss and they share the peace for a moment, since it feels like absolutely forever since they’ve had it. 


	9. Aaron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ....He watches Nicky come downstairs and go to his room, and he can tell that Nicky is close to tears after what he's just heard. So Matt takes a deep breath and he decides to pull a stunt like Neil did back during his freshman year. Even if he gets his head bitten off - and he knows he will - he is going to get mixed up in their family shit. He heads to the kitchen and stands beside Aaron while he watches him dump entirely too much sugar in his coffee and stir it.....

Matt breaks the kiss when they hear the front door open and Nicky greet Neil and Andrew. He grabs the takeout menus and heads into the living room with a grin already in place. How can he help it? Aaron’s taken him back, and while he fully intends to do far more grovelling, he’s  _ happy _ .

“Hey, guys, I’m gonna order some wings. Do you want some?” Neil nods and heads over to take a look at the menu. Matt hands it over and Neil shares it with Andrew. They’ve been speaking Russian for the last couple of years, Matt thinks, but it’s still weird to listen to them do it in front of him. It sounds very different from the German he’d grown used to hearing from the twins and Nicky. 

“So, did you guys kiss and make up?” Nicky asks with a cheeky grin from the couch. Erik is no longer on Skype with him, which explains his sudden interest. 

Matt scratches at the back of his neck and grins again. “Yeah? I mean, I know I fucked up and all, but yeah. We’re good, I think.” 

“I’m still mad at you,” Nicky says with a little bit of a pout. “But I’m glad you came back. You’d better treat him like a fucking princess, Matt Boyd.”

“Pretty sure he’d hate that, Nicky,” Matt laughs, “but I think I know what you mean.” Neil makes a face over the menu at Nicky, and then at Matt, and Matt laughs harder. “What?”

“You and  _ Aaron _ ,” Neil says. “It’s just weird.”

“You’re dating  _ Andrew _ ,” Matt points out with a shrug. “That was really fucking weird to everyone, believe me. Anyway, what does it matter?”

Neil raises his eyebrows. “He’s a homophobic dick?” Neil passes the menu back to Matt and Matt takes it with his lips pressed into a hard line. “Come on, Matt, he’s a fucking asshole to everyone. Even to Nicky.”

Matt knows that Aaron can hear them, and Matt hates to try to fight Aaron’s battles for him, but he also hates to hear this. So he takes a breath and scrubs one hand through his hair. “Neil, bro, you’re my best friend. And Aaron is my boyfriend. I know you two pretty much hate each other, and I’ve been dealing with that for a while now. Aaron has never said a word about you, so can you at least pay him the same favor in front of me?”

Neil looks surprised by that, and Matt tries for a little smile. “Fine,” Neil says. “Andrew’s not hungry and I just want the buffalo kind. Thanks.” 

“Sure,” Matt says. “I’ll go ahead and order them. Do they deliver?”

“We’ll go get them,” Neil offers. “Just let us know when.” They head upstairs after that, and Matt goes back to the kitchen. 

Aaron doesn’t look thrilled, but he doesn’t say anything about the conversation Matt knows he overheard. So Matt orders their food and they migrate to the living room and sit with Nicky while they wait. Aaron is curled up in Matt’s side, with his cold toes shoved under Matt’s thigh, and Matt’s arm is around him, and Aaron doesn’t move even when Neil and Andrew pass through to leave to go pick up the wings.

Nicky winds up leaving them alone for a little while to go put away all of the clean laundry he'd just finished folding. Matt takes Aaron’s bandaged hand, which is resting on top of the blanket, and he brings Aaron’s fingertips to his lips to kiss them. Aaron scrunches his nose at Matt but doesn't try to take his hand back. 

“I have practice tomorrow,” Matt says softly. “I'll have to go back tonight.” Aaron nods. “Do you want to stay here with your family or do you want to come with me?” 

Aaron shifts against Matt’s side until he's facing Matt, more or less. He isn't looking at Matt, but Matt knows he is considering his answer carefully. It's always been Aaron’s biggest tell. He won't look anyone in the eyes when he's having a serious conversation, unless he's being an asshole. Matt thinks that probably has something to do with Aaron’s mom, but he doesn't ask. He just waits Aaron out, content to let him take the time he needs to consider his answer. 

Finally, Aaron nods once. “I'll go with you, if you still want me to.” 

Matt is, internally, overjoyed by this answer. But it worries him also. “What about...well, they're your family.” Matt shrugs. “You don't want to spend Christmas with them?” 

Aaron throws him a flat look and Matt holds his breath, because he can already see the narrow set to Aaron’s brows and the sneer lingering at the corner of his mouth. “Andrew and I get along best when we don't speak, I dislike Neil on principle, and Nicky is leaving this summer anyway. He's got Erik to go back to, to go be happy with.” Matt frowns because he can see Nicky’s shadow where he's stopped about midway down the stairs. “So what fucking family? Nicky is the only real family I've ever fucking had and he's leaving soon anyway, so there's no point beating a dead horse.”

Matt doesn't know what to say. He really doesn't. So he just sits in silence. He's pretty sure Nicky went back upstairs after hearing that, and he really can't blame him. Aaron tosses the blanket away and gets up, grabbing his coffee cup without a word and heading to the kitchen. Matt doesn't follow him because he knows Aaron needs a moment to himself after something like that. 

He watches Nicky come downstairs and go to his room, and he can tell that Nicky is close to tears after what he's just heard. So Matt takes a deep breath and he decides to pull a stunt like Neil did back during his freshman year. Even if he gets his head bitten off - and he knows he will - he is going to get mixed up in their family shit. He heads to the kitchen and stands beside Aaron while he watches him dump entirely too much sugar in his coffee and stir it. 

“You should talk to Nicky,” Matt says. He keeps his voice low and soft and he stays out of Aaron’s space, but still an arm’s length away. “Pretty sure he heard what you said.”

Aaron shrugs and he looks apathetic. “I didn't lie.” That argument might work with someone like Andrew, who values the truth above anything else, but it does not work on Matt. 

“It was still really shitty for Nicky to overhear.” Matt reaches over and puts his hand over Aaron's coffee cup to get his attention. “I'm not telling you to apologize. I'm asking you to talk to him.” 

Aaron turns to look at Matt. “About what, Matt? About him fucking back off to Germany next year? You've heard Nicky say Erik saved him, that he wanted to kill himself because of all that shit Luther and Maria put him through. So let him go be happy, but I am not going to act like some fucking kid and cling to his goddamn leg and try to make this shitty ass holiday any better by making everyone around me miserable.” Aaron steps away from Matt. “Leave if you want, you don't have to take me with you. I'll go back to fucking Palmetto or something.”

“Stop,” Matt says, and takes a step toward Aaron to make up the difference in the distance between them now. There is a perfect balance that he’s had figured out for a while now, and he likes to maintain it when he can. “I want you to come with me, but I really want you to talk to Nicky about this before we leave. It's important, okay? I can buy the tickets for us. Just…don't leave Nicky upset about this for his entire holiday, okay? It might not mean much to you but it means a lot to him.”

Aaron just looks at him for a long moment. Matt only exhales when Aaron turns around and heads out to the living room. Matt watches him go straight to Nicky’s room and barge in without knocking. He closes the door forcefully, just short of a slam, and Matt has to scrub his fingers through his hair again to release some tension. It’s a good thing that Aaron is finally addressing this issue with Nicky. 

Matt heads upstairs and finds Aaron’s laptop easily enough. He buys both of their plane tickets and doesn't even blink at the price for the first class seats. Aaron will probably call him spoiled, and maybe he is, but he hates flying coach now. He wants to spoil Aaron anyway, and it's so very difficult to do that for a person who is insistent on doing every single thing on his own. Matt really does love that quality in Aaron, but he also kind of wants to shake Aaron sometimes. He's a pro athlete. He should be allowed to spoil his tiny boyfriend every once in a while.

He heads back downstairs just as Andrew and Neil come back with lunch. He thanks them with a smile that hurts the bruised side of his face and takes it all to the kitchen. Neil follows him, but Andrew vanishes somewhere - Matt doesn’t know where. Neil takes his wings and begins to eat alongside Matt where he’s propped against the counter.

“Where’s Nicky and Aaron?” Neil asks, and licks some of the buffalo sauce off of his fingers. It’s smeared over the side of his mouth and Matt wants to laugh, but he doesn’t.

“They’re talking in Nicky’s room,” Matt answers. “I sort of pulled a you.” Neil tilts his head to the side in question and Matt sighs. “Aaron said something about Nicky going back to Germany after they graduate and Nicky overheard him. I’m pretty sure it upset Nicky, so I told Aaron to go talk to him about it.” 

“Don’t see what that has to do with me,” Neil shrugs. 

Matt smiles a little and finishes off the wing he’s eating before responding. “Because I’m getting mixed up in their family stuff, like you did your freshman year.”

Neil gives him a flat look that is definitely not amused. “Whatever.” He goes back to his wings for a moment before looking back up at Matt with a small frown. “Andrew says I’m oblivious.”

Matt does laugh at that. He can’t help it. “You are, bro, but it’s okay. Andrew will look out for you, and if you ever need anything you can always text me.” They keep eating mostly in silence, until the door to Nicky’s room opens and Aaron comes out but Nicky does not.

“Everything okay?” Matt asks. Aaron nods. He grabs his container of wings and a couple of bottles of water and goes for the stairs. Matt sighs a little and shakes his head. He looks over at Neil. “You wanna check on Nicky?”

“I’m not the one who started this,” Neil says. “You can finish it.”

After he finishes his last couple of wings, Matt washes his hands and gathers up Nicky’s food to take it as a sort of peace offering. He knocks before going into Nicky’s room, but pushes the door open when Nicky calls out for him to come in.

He holds up the food first. “I come bearing gifts.” He smiles, but Nicky has obviously been crying. He’s not now, but his eyes and cheeks are still red. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Nicky says, and sniffs. He stands and gets his food and he waves Matt out. They sit in the living room and Nicky picks at his food a bit without actually eating it. “I didn’t know Aaron...felt that way about me leaving.”

Matt shrugs. “He was what, fourteen when you left for Germany the first time?” Nicky nods. “It was hard for him. I’m not saying he should still be taking it out on you, because he really shouldn’t be, but did you guys at least talk about it?”

Nicky nods and does smile a little. “We did. I’m actually really proud of him, you know? I mean, I get that you had to push him to come tell me, but he did it, didn’t he? And now we’ve sort of...cleared the air or something. I don’t know. But he knows that just because I’m in Germany, I’m not going to stop caring about him or stop calling to check up on him.” 

“I think he just needed to hear it,” Matt says with a smile. “Are you okay with him coming to New York with me for Christmas?”

“Yeah, of course,” Nicky says, and gives Matt a brighter smile. “You’re so good for him, Matt. So thank you for that. Just...keep an eye on him for me? Even while I’m in Germany? I worry about him, you know? I worry about Andrew, too, but they’re different people.”

“Trust me,” Matt chuckles, “I’ve noticed. Anyway, thanks, Nicky. I know you’ve done a lot for both of them.”

Nicky looks close to tears again, but at least he’s smiling. Matt pats him on the shoulder a couple of times and gets up to go find Aaron. He tries the door and is very glad that it’s unlocked. He really doesn’t want to spend another couple of hours sitting out here in the hall and trying to coax Aaron to let him in. His music is on and loud, but when Matt goes in, he’s glad to see Aaron’s eating at least - and most of his food is gone.

“You are annoying,” Aaron says, his mouth full of chicken. Matt laughs and flops down on Aaron’s bed. “Happy now?”

“I will be,” Matt says, nodding. “Finish eating and come here.” Aaron discards the wing he’s just finished, licks the sauce off his fingers and wipes them on the hem of the shirt that’s entirely too big for his small frame. He sits on the bed beside Matt and Matt wraps his arms around him tightly, kissing his cheek. “Thank you. For talking to Nicky and for coming with me to New York. I bought our tickets.”

“When do we leave?” Aaron asks.

“Seven tonight,” Matt says. “We have a layover in Philly for a couple of hours, but we can eat and get a drink or something at the airport.” 

“I need to pack,” Aaron sighs. “And we both need showers.”

Matt laughs softly and noses his way along Aaron’s jaw under his ear. “Won’t take you long to pack. It never does.” He slides his hands under the hem of Aaron’s shirt and trails his fingers over soft skin that covers hard muscles. “We’ve got time.”

Aaron turns so that he’s more or less facing Matt and threads his fingers into Matt’s hair before tugging on it sharply. “Blow me, then we’ll talk.” Matt’s eyes go wide, and then he’s kissing Aaron before he can have any logical thoughts. 

But then, he can taste the sauce from Aaron’s wings and it’s burning his lips and tongue. He breaks the kiss with a laugh. “Christ, babe, how can you stand eating that shit?” He reaches over Aaron for the spare bottle of water there and takes a drink. 

Aaron smirks at him. “It’s not that hot.” He tugs on Matt’s hair again, wringing a soft groan out of him. “Stop talking.” 

Matt loves this, he really does. He grins widely and goes for Aaron’s neck instead, kissing and letting his teeth scrape over his skin lightly. It’s nowhere near enough to leave a mark, but he likes doing just this. He abandons the bottle of water over the edge of the bed, but he barely hears the sound it makes as it hits the floor. He wraps his arms around Aaron’s waist and lifts him up to move him where he can get to him easier. Their height difference is an inconvenience at times, but Matt will always find a way to work around it. 

He inches his way down the bed and Aaron’s chest, kissing over every bit of skin he can reach as he goes. Aaron’s hand stays in his hair, encouraging him with small tugs every few seconds. Matt’s hands are already tugging down Aaron’s sweats. He’s licking and sucking at Aaron’s nipple, getting a short gasp and slightly bucking hips for his efforts. He lifts his head to grin up at Aaron and gets his hair yanked - which is just  _ fucking great _ . 

Aaron is impatient, Matt notices, but that’s okay. He’s not going to drag this out right now. They’ll have almost two weeks just to themselves to enjoy - alone, in his apartment, and in his big ass bed. Just the thought of all of that potential excites him further, and he’s sliding lower, nearly swallowing Aaron whole. 

His fingers are anchored to Aaron’s hips - the one place he knows is always okay - and digging in a little harder than he intends. Aaron doesn’t really seem to mind, because he’s still trying to jerk his hips, but Matt is holding him still. Matt groans around Aaron’s cock in his mouth at another hard tug to his hair, his back arching as he grinds his own cock into the mattress for just the slightest relief. 

“Get yourself off,” Aaron rasps in a sound just above a whisper. Matt whines a little and Aaron tugs at his hair. 

He moves one hand away from Aaron’s hips and shoves down his own sweats. He's jerking hard at his own cock, and while it's not the most pleasant position to do this in, he can't say he doesn't enjoy it. Part of it is the thrill of Aaron having  _ told _ him to do this. 

He feels explosive. A few right moves and he’ll satisfy himself and Aaron at the same time. There's power in that, he thinks, and power in submission. Aaron is wriggling beneath him, and it's becoming harder to keep him still while Matt still tries to jerk himself off. But he will not stop trying. So he shifts his position again, so he is up on his knees, with his arm flat over Aaron’s waist. 

Aaron half sits up and Matt has to bend a little lower to reach him. He lifts his eyes, trying to question what Aaron is doing, when Aaron’s hand is no longer in his hair and it's suddenly around his throat. 

This, Matt thinks, is what heaven must feel like all the time. It's pure bliss. He is riding a high of not quite enough air. Aaron had rejected this idea the only time Matt ever suggested it, saying Matt got little enough air while he was sucking his dick in the first place. Whatever has made Aaron change his mind has not made him any less attentive. He always releases any pressure at the exact moment Matt seems to need it, and he adds it again when Matt wants to beg and can't because his mouth is full. 

He is coming before he intended to, but Aaron manages that when he does things like this - things that Matt has suggested and Aaron has refused and then suddenly decides to try. Matt groans around Aaron’s cock for a moment, and then Aaron’s hand is in his hair again and Matt - well, he takes Aaron just as deep as he can physically manage, so that his nose is pressed to Aaron’s groin and the fine blond hairs there. 

Aaron shakes as he comes, and gasps little breaths of air with no sound. Matt rolls to the side, his head resting by Aaron’s hip and Aaron’s fingers tracing soft patterns in his scalp. He’s already got come all over Aaron’s sheets, so he uses them to dry his hand before curling around Aaron and pressing his face into Aaron’s side, pressing kisses to his ribs every now and again. They lay together until it is time to start packing and getting ready to leave.

* * *

 

It’s six o’clock before they head to the airport in a cab. Aaron refused to ask Andrew to take them, and Matt didn’t want to push that issue, so he just called for the cab and said no more about it. Nicky hugs Aaron and Matt both as they toss their bags into the trunk of the cab. Neil’s been getting better about hugs, but he only gives one to Matt before giving Aaron something close to a dirty look - that Aaron ignores. 

The ride is short, but while they’re printing out their boarding passes, Aaron notices that they have first class seats and huffs. “God you’re fucking spoiled.” 

Matt laughs. “Yeah, and? Just wait til you get to fly first class, then you’ll see. It’s great. And you get alcohol like as soon as you sit down.”

Aaron shrugs, half nodding like that’s a decent concession to the price, and they make their way to the counter to check their bags. They get through security with enough time to make it to their gate and find their plane just as they start calling for first class boarding. First class is full of business-type people who don’t pay much attention to Matt at all, and he’s careful to keep his head down and not attract attention to himself as the other passengers board. It’s a miracle no one notices him, he thinks, but he’s grateful.

He and Aaron don’t really talk, but Aaron does let him hold his bruised up hand during the flight, and Matt is perfectly content with that. Their layover in Philly is a little more eventful, since the waitress at the restaurant they eat at recognizes Matt and begs for an autograph and a photo. Matt agrees under the condition she doesn’t share it for a couple of hours - long enough for him to be in the air and away from the airport. She agrees and so he takes the picture with her. 

It’s tiring, sometimes, having random people recognize him and accost him, but it’s not really annoying until someone follows them away from the restaurant. Matt notices, and so suggests to Aaron that they just walk around for a bit. Aaron shrugs his agreement and follows, but Matt can see that he’s noticed the guy as well. They wander until they hear the first call for their flight boarding, and then they board and leave the guy behind. Matt orders a drink as soon as he can and downs it.

“That guy was a creep,” Aaron mutters, but he’s staring out of the window at the dark tarmac. 

Matt reaches over and takes Aaron’s hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Yeah, but he can’t get on the plane. And this one is a short flight, so we’ll be in Albany soon. Then we can get to my apartment and get some sleep.” 

That is indeed what happens, with little fuss. Matt loves his apartment, because it’s big and open and has huge windows that overlook the city and it’s close enough to the stadium that he can walk there. He and Aaron curl up together in his massive bed and he is so, so glad to have Aaron here in his arms where he can keep him warm and safe. 


	10. Aaron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...Aaron flinches at the pet name used so casually out in the middle of the sidewalk, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s picking at the gauze on his hand, though, until Matt bends to make him stop. It’s hard, making himself adjust to this. Still, he promised Betsy he would try. He has to call her later today anyway, so maybe he can ask her what to do to make it easier....

“I fucking hate you,” Aaron wheezes through the icy air in his lungs. Matt woke him up at five-thirty this morning and asked him to go for a run. Aaron, who’d been tired the night before and who hadn’t been paying shit attention to anything, totally forgot about the snow everywhere and the freezing cold temperature outside. He powers through it, because he said he would and now he has to in order to prove that he can, and curses Matt every step of the way.

“We’re almost done!” Matt says, entirely too cheerful for this early in the morning when it’s this fucking cold outside. Aaron’s half sure he’s going to get frostbite on his fingers. “I’ll go out after practice today and get you better running gear, sound good?”

“Fuck you.” Aaron looks at Matt’s grin and realizes that he hasn’t said no. He’s not going to say no. If Matt expects him to run in the fucking cold, then he’s going to need something warmer to do it, dammit. They round the block and slow for the cool down. Aaron feels like he’s breathing in literal icicles.

“After practice,” Matt says, winking. Aaron just rolls his eyes. “What do you want for breakfast? I have some instant stuff, but I think the eggs are still good.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Aaron mutters, waving him off. “When do you have to leave?”

“I have to be there at eight,” Matt says, and looks at his watch. “It’s just after seven now, but the stadium is only like a fifteen minute walk from here. We passed it on the run.”

Aaron nods. He remembers, and it’s hard to miss anyway. The brilliant green and dark blue should clash, but somehow they don’t. The colors are almost as offensive as Fox orange. “When is it over?”

Matt shrugs. “Usually around three. Depends on what Coach wants to cover. Savage is out with an injury and Rawlins is sick, so that just leaves three of us right now. The scrimmage will probably be cut short, at least I hope, and I might get to leave early.”

“When you play with Gros-Ventre, make sure you cover his left,” Aaron says, looking over at one of the buildings they’re passing. It’s a bakery with a display of pastries and other sweets. He wants one.

“What?” Matt asks, and stops in the middle of the sidewalk. He brushes Aaron’s side and adds, “Oh, do you want one?”

Aaron shakes his head and keeps walking, making Matt jog to catch up with him. “His left is weak. If a striker can get on his left side, he’ll lose the block every single time.”

Matt pokes at his side and laughs. “You _do_ watch my games!” Aaron has never said that he didn’t, simply refused to answer and say that he did. Matt’s games are always on Saturdays, so he can usually make time to watch them with Nicky - and even Neil, if Nicky invites him. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, babe.”

Aaron flinches at the pet name used so casually out in the middle of the sidewalk, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s picking at the gauze on his hand, though, until Matt bends to make him stop. It’s hard, making himself adjust to this. Still, he promised Betsy he would try. He has to call her later today anyway, so maybe he can ask her what to do to make it easier.

They make it back to the apartment and Aaron showers first so that he can make breakfast while Matt is taking his shower. Aaron teased him for it once, showering after a run only to go get more sweaty and gross at practice, but Matt has his own self-confidence issues, even if they’re buried far deeper and much harder to spot.

Aaron makes omelets and oatmeal, high protein and heavy carbs to get Matt through practice until lunch. He’s just finishing up the second omelet - full of ham, cheese, and mushrooms (he really needs to stop by a fucking grocery store later to get something _fresh_ ) - when Matt comes out of his room in sweats and his team’s hoodie.

“Here,” Aaron says, and sets the plate in front of Matt where he’s standing on the other side of the counter that splits the kitchen and the living room. He grabs the pot of oatmeal and dumps a few spoonfuls into a bowl, adds some honey and cinnamon, and gives that to him as well. “You are aware that fresh fruit and vegetables exist, right?”

Matt laughs. “Yeah, but I don’t cook that often and I’m almost never here, so what’s the point in keeping it around if it’s just gonna go bad and stink up the place?” He cuts into the omelet first and starts eating, even though it’s really too hot. Aaron smirks a little as it burns Matt’s mouth. He manages to swallow the bite anyway. “There’s a bodega that sells stuff just down the block. You can check there for what you need, and if they don’t have it, we can go to Whole Foods later.”

Aaron nods and starts eating the omelet he’s been picking at while cooking the oatmeal and Matt’s omelet. “The bodega should be fine. I just want...peppers and onions and fucking spices and shit. You eat like you don’t have any tastebuds.”

“This coming from the guy who burns all his off eating the spiciest shit he can find,” Matt teases back. Aaron just shrugs. “I won’t argue. You’re food tastes better than mine anyway. I’ll leave my wallet here. You aren’t going to pay for my groceries.”

Aaron makes a face, but doesn’t argue. Matt eats far more than he does anyway, and if he has to cook the damn food, he’s not going to fucking pay for it too - or clean up, but Matt doesn’t know that yet. Aaron glances at the clock on the oven. It’s already after seven-thirty. “You should get going.”

Matt looks at the time too, and nods. “Text me if you need anything, okay? I still check my phone on water breaks and stuff.” He grins and shovels the rest of his food into his mouth as fast as he can. He’s a human vacuum cleaner with a black hole for a stomach - Aaron is positive about this.

“I think I’ll manage,” Aaron says dryly. “It’s not my first time here.”

“I know,” Matt says through a mouth full of food that makes Aaron grimace. “Still. I’ll let you know what I’m I should be back and then we can get you some running gear for the cold.” He grins again and grabs his plate and bowl. He rounds the counter to drop them in the sink, then bend to kiss Aaron quickly. “Call Betsy today, and be safe?”

Aaron only nods and watches Matt grab his heavy wool coat before he jogs out the door. Yes, he’s been in Albany before, and he’s been in Matt’s apartment before, but he’s never really been left alone here all day before. It’s different, but not really bad. He cleans up the mess from breakfast, calls Betsy after eight and speaks with her for a little while, and then changes into something that he hopes is warm enough for the walk to the bodega.

Matt’s wallet is on the counter where he left it the night before. Aaron feels weird about taking it, so he just grabs Matt’s card instead and leaves the rest. On the way to the bodega, he ducks into the little bakery and buys himself the pastry he was eyeing earlier. Betsy said he shouldn’t deny himself little things like this, so he even lets Matt pay for it. He eats it for the rest of the walk and finishes it just before walking into the tiny, too-bright bodega.

He gets a few strange looks from some of the others shopping there so early in the morning, but he ignores them. He finds everything he needed and a bit more than he just wants because it will make everything taste better. He’s glad that he took that one year of Spanish now, because he can at least read most of the labels on the food. He’s pretty sure _ajo_ is the word for garlic, so he grabs that last and heads up to the counter to pay.

It’s a slower trip back, with three full bags in each hand, and he feels like he’s going to freeze solid to the sidewalk at any second. Oh, Matt is _definitely_ buying him warmer clothes dammit. He was not made for cold weather. The moment he gets inside the apartment, he drops all of the bags in the kitchen and unloads them as fast as he can before diving into Matt’s bed with every blanket he can find in an attempt to warm up.

Katelyn calls while he’s bundled up and he talks to her for a little bit, tells her he’s in Albany with Matt - but not why - and that he’s better. He’s pretty sure Katelyn knows a lot more than she lets on, but she respects his privacy too, and that’s one of the reasons he still sort of loves her. She tells him all about the trip she took to the mountains and going skiing and how terrible she claims to be at it. He doubts that, and calls her on it, and they laugh for a bit together. It seems so painfully normal, to Aaron, and he almost can’t figure out how he got here.

He gets very bored after his call with Katelyn, and even the space show from a few nights ago - which he’d managed to find again - can’t keep him entertained. He eats an apple and some peanut butter for lunch, then eats a chocolate bar, and then gets bored again. He feels restless, almost anxious for some reason. He plays on his laptop for a while until he finds a recipe for tamales to try, and since it takes a long time to make heads back to the bodega for the rest of the ingredients he needs.

On the way, he realizes that Matt has texted him he’ll be back soon. Aaron figures he should probably hurry, then. He gets the masa harina, the chili pods, the lard - god, he never thought he’d cook anything with _lard_ \- the corn husks, and the pork loin, and heads back to the apartment.

As he is walking down the street he hears, “Minyard?” He freezes, because he knows that voice, he just doesn’t remember where he knows it from. A moment later, none other than fucking _Cam_ _Wilkins_ from his old high school is standing in front of him. “Holy shit. Never thought I’d see you again.”

“What the fuck do you want?” Aaron snaps. He’s cold and he’s angry over everything that’s happened in the last week. He doesn’t want to face down this particular demon right now. His right arm throbs painfully where it was broken so many years ago.

“Chill, man,” Cam says, holding up his hands in defense. “You play for PSU now, right? You guys are kicking ass with championships and all. My girlfriend still doesn’t believe me when I say I used to go to highschool with you.” He laughs a bit and gives Aaron an easy grin.

Aaron shoves by him, barely resisting checking him hard into the building behind him - because that would be _assault_ and he’d never live it down after the shit with his trial. Cam shouts after him, but Aaron ignores him until Cam jogs ahead of him and plants himself in front of Aaron. It takes every ounce of self control Aaron has not to drop his groceries and jump him and beat him to a bloody pulp.

“Dude, I just wanted to talk to you for a second,” Cam says. “What’s with the attitude? I thought we were friends?”

Aaron sees red. “Friends? Are you fucking kidding me?” He’s almost shouting now, and he’s distantly aware that people are staring at him. “You fucking jumped me and broke my goddamn arm, you sick son of a bitch!”

Cam blinks at him in surprise, and then frowns. “Shit man, I forgot all about that.”

And god, Aaron wants to scream. “Yeah, well, I didn’t.” He walks by Cam again. “Don’t speak to me again.”

“Would you just wait a fucking second?” Cam asks, and reached out to grab Aaron’s arm. Aaron jerks his arm out of reach just before Cam can touch him. “Let me at least apologize, dude.”

“No.” Aaron keeps walking, but Cam keeps following him. Aaron knows the doorman at Matt’s apartment complex won’t let Cam in the building, but Aaron still doesn’t want Cam to know where he is - even if it’s just knowing what building he’s in. “Go the fuck away.”

“Aaron?” It’s Matt, Aaron realizes. He’s just a couple of hundred feet away, standing outside of his building in plain gray sweats again and his team hoodie with his wool coat on over it. Aaron really, really doesn’t want Matt to be here right now, but he’s already walking over to him. And Cam is still following him. “What’s up? What did you get?”

“Shit for tamales,” Aaron answers, his voice too dark and too flat. Matt’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead at the sound. Aaron cuts his eyes to the side and he watches Matt look behind him to where he can feel Cam approaching.

“Holy fuck, Matt Boyd?” Cam asks, and he sounds a little breathless. “Dude, you’re fucking awesome.”

“Yeah, can I help you?” Matt asks, nowhere near as nice as he was to the girl at the restaurant in the airport last night.

“Thought I fucking told you to get lost,” Aaron snaps, looking over his shoulder at Cam, who looks a little star-struck at the moment. That look shatters quickly as he gazes between Aaron and Matt. Aaron knows it’s coming, he does, and he wants to stop it before it happens, but suddenly his tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth and he can’t speak at all.

“You really are a fucking faggot, aren’t you?” Cam says, mocking Aaron as he looks down at him.

“No,” Matt says, cold and hard and threatening. He signals the doorman, who comes jogging over. “Call the cops, would you? Guess I’ve got a stalker.” The doorman is instantly on his phone and Cam’s eyes are wide as saucers.

“Wait, fuck, no -” Cam is stuttering. “I’m not a fucking stalker!”

Matt looks him up and down. “Really? I could have sworn you followed me from the stadium and started talking to me and my friend, and then you started saying derogatory things.” Aaron is impressed with how quickly Matt has spun this in his favor. “My doorman will back me on everything I’ve just said, and so will my friend here.” They can already hear sirens. Matt smirks. “What was that name again?”

“Cam Wilkins,” Aaron provides helpfully, if tonelessly.

“This is fucking bullshit!” Cam shouts. He points a finger at Aaron. “Rich said you were here in Albany, back at Thanksgiving, but I said there was no fucking way. Well now I know he wasn’t lying.” And then Cam runs off, and the cops show up a little while later.

Matt gives the cop the same twisted little story he’d told Cam, gives Cam’s name, and then he and Aaron head up to his apartment. Matt falls face-first into the couch the moment he gets inside, and Aaron can’t really blame him. He goes to the kitchen and puts away everything he’d bought for the tamales. Maybe he can try tomorrow; he doesn’t feel particularly up to it right now.

“I’m sorry,” Matt says, and Aaron can hear him even though his voice is muffled by the couch cushion. “Are you okay?”

Aaron doesn’t think he is, not really. He goes over to the couch and pokes and prods at Matt until Matt rolls over on his side and Aaron can tuck himself into Matt’s front like he’s done so many times before back when they shared a dorm. Matt folds his arms around Aaron and they just lay there for a while.

The thing is, Aaron can’t stop thinking about what Cam said. _Rich_ was in Albany too? What were the odds of that? He wasn’t sure, but it didn’t sound good. And Rich had told Cam that he knew that Aaron was here over Thanksgiving. How did Rich know that? Aaron is shaking, and he doesn’t realize it until Matt tightens his arms around him, thinking that he’s cold.

“I think Rich is the one who sent the picture,” Aaron whispers to Matt’s chest.

“The one that Cam guy was yelling about?” Matt asks. Aaron nods. “Fuck.” Matt sighs hard. “We’ll deal with it, Aaron. Whatever happens. Okay? It will be all right.” Matt brushes his hand over Aaron’s hair for a moment. “We need to tell my coach.”

Aaron actually agrees with this. Even if Matt has to tell him the truth, that could save them both a lot of grief in the future. Coach Michaels can head off anything that Rich or Cam try to do and keep it under wraps and out of the press. Michaels keeps his entire team under a very tight leash when it comes to the press - namely because of their striker, Moore. Aaron presses himself tighter into Matt’s chest and squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t want to think about anything, but he can’t stop the memories from pouring back over him.

“Babe.” Matt is rubbing his back now. “It’s okay. We’ll figure this out. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

It’s not himself he’s worried about, Aaron realizes, but he doesn’t say anything to Matt. Instead, he gets up. “I’m done. Let’s just go get this shopping shit taken care of. We’ll eat out again or something and I’ll make the tamales tomorrow.”

Matt looks surprised by this, but he nods and stands himself. “I’ll change.” Aaron goes back to the kitchen and finishes putting away the pots and stuff he’d taken out earlier. He doesn’t want to think about anything, so he busies himself with the mindless task of rearranging Matt’s spice cabinet until Matt comes out of his room dressed and ready to go.

They take Matt’s horrible blue truck that Aaron hates because he has to literally climb to get into it. Half an hour later, they’re in a different part of the city and everything seems very busy. Matt finds a parking deck and they start walking. Aaron is cold to his bones, but he says nothing about it - that, or the pain in his right arm that’s only gotten worse.

Matt distracts him with useless crap and stupid jokes, makes him laugh a little, and buys him some decent winter clothes that will probably keep him a lot warmer than what he has now. South Carolina winters are nothing like this, but Matt seems to know what he needs. He winds up with a pile of under armour gear that he can wear under his jeans and shirts even when he isn’t out running.

While they are out, Aaron picks up a new book for Katelyn and a couple of shirts he himself hates, but he knows Nicky will like. When Matt asks him about Andrew, Aaron huffs and rolls his eyes, but he goes back for a black shirt that’s got a skeleton hand with the middle finger up - and the beanie to match it. Matt winds up buying Neil some armbands that have an atrocious fox print all over them in almost the exact shade of Palmetto’s orange. They’re hideous, and Aaron figures Neil will probably like them anyway.

They dick around for a while after that, just stopping in random stores and looking at weird things or cool things and even one place that looked like a nightclub on the outside and turned out to be some weird neo-goth art museum. Aaron actually kind of likes the dark, almost violent at times, and other times very antique-looking elegant stuff they have on display, and he likes it all the more because it’s not all just boring paintings, but most of the stuff is sculptures made out of different things. One of the pieces were two obviously male skeletons fucking - but one was made of fairy lights and wire while the other was made of broken plastic spoons spray-painted red.

Dinner comes early and in the form of Korean food in a tiny place they stumble upon by chance. Matt isn’t a huge fan, but Aaron loves it - and he ends up eating most of Matt’s dish as well as all of his own. The ride back to the apartment is less than eventful, for which Aaron can be grateful, but he still feels a little restless and somewhat anxious, like he did earlier in the day.

When they get to the apartment door, he thinks it might be a sixth sense or something, because there are maintenance people outside of Matt’s apartment and they’re trying to scrub the door where the word “fag” is written in what looks like black spray paint.

Matt is furious, and rightly so, but he gets no answers that night. In fact, he doesn’t even get answers the next morning - Christmas Eve. The manager can only provide them with a single still of a man wearing a dark hoodie with the hood covering his face, and the doorman never saw him enter the complex. Aaron hates every part of this.


	11. Aaron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...Aaron looks back too, and he realizes two things. The guy behind them is in all black with a hood over his head, but Aaron can still see his face. He knows he’s seen this guy before - and he remembers the airport in Philadelphia and the creep that was following them around. The other thing he realizes, though, is that he knows this person....

It doesn’t help that he gets another picture later that afternoon. This one has him and Matt on their run - from this morning. Aaron doesn’t even know how anyone got his new phone number, since so few people have it. He’s ready to scream and throw up when he wordlessly hands the phone to Matt. Matt looks ready to commit murder. 

“Come here,” Matt whispers, and he holds Aaron close. “I think you should call Betsy. I’m gonna have to call Coach and explain what’s going on.” Aaron doesn’t let him go. He can’t - not just yet. He needs Matt to hold on to him, to keep him in one piece. He feels like he’s going to shatter any second now. He hates this. He hates it so much.

When Matt finally does leave him alone, he retreats to Matt’s bedroom and calls Betsy. He tells her about the encounter with Cam on the street, about how they came back to the apartment door graffitied, and about the new picture. She talks him out of his spiral, though it takes her a while, and advises him to go to the police. He doesn’t want to, and he’s ready to refuse...

Until Matt tells him that his coach also wants them to go to the police. And suddenly they’re sitting in a precinct office several blocks from Matt’s apartment and telling them about both pictures, about Cam, about how and why Aaron knows them, about the door, about everything… It’s exhausting, and Aaron feels like he’s used up all of his words for the rest of the day before they’re even allowed to leave. 

Matt’s coach arrives, and he introduces himself to Aaron quietly without much discussion. He doesn’t say anything to them about what’s going on, just says that they’ll figure this out. He takes over from there and the police deal with Coach Michaels from then on, and Matt and Aaron get to go back to the apartment. 

Aaron cannot speak to Matt, and Matt is just as exhausted as he is, so Aaron throws himself into making the tamales he’d planned for the day before. When they’re done, he can’t even force himself to eat an entire tamale. He thinks they probably taste okay, but he can’t taste much at all right now. He wants something spicy enough to burn, something he can  _ feel _ , but he says nothing. 

Aaron and Matt go to bed early that night and wake up on Christmas morning with all attempts being made at smiling. Matt doesn’t make Aaron go for a run, thankfully, and they lounge in bed until they’re hungry enough to get up and find something to eat. 

“Catch,” Matt says from the living room. Aaron is in the kitchen, but when he turns to face Matt, he nearly drops his cup of coffee to catch the small box Matt has thrown at him. He narrows his eyes and looks down at the soft golden paper. Matt very obviously did not wrap this himself - he’s seen how terribly Matt wraps gifts. Matt is grinning easily for the first time since two nights ago. “Well go on. Open it.”

Aaron sets down his cup of coffee and tears open the paper. It’s a little white box. When he opens it, there’s a ring inside. It’s silver and the band is wide. Engraved around it are small black infinity symbols. He picks it up and the outer band spins while the inner band remains stationary. “The fuck is this?”

“Spinner ring,” Matt says and shrugs. “Thought maybe it might help with the whole biting your hand thing.” 

Aaron is a little bit stunned. Not over the gift itself, but at the thought behind it. Matt’s always been worried about him biting his knuckles, but it’s never been quite this bad before, either. Aaron took the bandages off his hand yesterday because they were getting annoying while he was trying to cook. He fits the band on his middle finger and is surprised that it actually fits. He’s never really had anything like this before - no jewelry of any kind. It feels weird, so he takes it off again and tries it on his thumb. It fits there too, and feels more comfortable. 

“Thank you,” Aaron mutters, and spins the ring. It’s kind of nice, actually. It’s not very flashy, but he likes watching it and he is already fidgeting with it. 

“Just try to stop biting your knuckles, okay?” Matt says, and when Aaron looks up, he’s a lot closer than he was a moment ago. Matt slips behind him and wrapps his arms around Aaron’s shoulders. “If you don’t, I’ll just have to find you one of those chewy necklace things so you can bite that instead. Sound good?”

Aaron chuckles a little. “Yeah, whatever.” He turns around in Matt’s arms and presses his face to Matt’s chest as he holds on to Matt’s hips. He still feels unsettled and anxious. He doesn’t know what else is going to happen. Is this fucker going to send him another picture, or are they just going to start sending them to the press. He’s actually afraid, but he keeps it to himself - he really doesn’t want to bother Matt with any of it, especially not today.

Christmas has never meant much to Aaron. It was always a lousy holiday. His birthday and Thanksgiving are always worse - hell, he’d just like to skip the entire month of November for the rest of his life - but Christmas was just never special for him like it was for other people. He won’t ruin it for Matt, though, at least as much as he can  _ not  _ ruin anything. 

They end up being lazy all day, which is perfectly fine with Aaron. They play Call of Duty on Matt’s big-ass tv and then watch old Christmas movies. Aaron doesn’t cook because Matt won’t let him out of arm’s reach, but that’s fine too, really. He can’t say he minds at all, and it’s actually comforting to have Matt so close. 

“We’ll head to Mom’s tomorrow,” Matt says, and shoves another handful of popcorn into his mouth. They’re watching  _ A Christmas Story  _ for the second time because one of the channels plays it on a loop all day. “If that’s all right?”

Aaron shrugs. “She already knows, so it’s whatever.” It’s not  _ whatever _ , but Aaron won’t say more on the subject, so Matt drops it. 

They head to bed early again, but they don’t sleep at first. The sex is long, loud, and rough, but it’s a good distraction and it tires them both out for sleep. Even so, Aaron still has nightmares. He gives up after the third time he wakes up and heads out to the living room so Matt can get a few more hours of sleep. 

The news is dull, all of the sports channels are covering things that aren’t exy, and Aaron can’t find the stupid space show, so he just gives up and turns the tv off. He sits in the dark silence, alone, and refuses to go near his phone where it’s charging on the counter. He doesn’t want to know if there’s another picture. Honestly, he’s not sure he trusts himself to see one and not freak out again. 

Dozing on the couch proves at least mildly effective, as he doesn’t quite slip into a deep enough sleep to dream. Matt wakes him for their run at five-thirty and they head out into the cold. With all of the new running shit, Aaron isn’t nearly as cold as he was the other day, but the icy air still hurts his chest every time he takes a breath. 

They’re walking the last two blocks back to the apartment complex for their cooldown when Aaron hears his name. He ignores it and starts jogging again. They can do their cooldown somewhere else - he doesn’t care - he just has to be  _ away _ . 

“Who is that?” Matt asks, jogging up to him. Aaron looks at Matt, but Matt is looking behind them with a deep frown. “He’s following us.” Then, a moment later, “Wait...That guy…”

Aaron looks back too, and he realizes two things. The guy behind them is in all black with a hood over his head, but Aaron can still see his face. He knows he’s seen this guy before - and he remembers the airport in Philadelphia and the creep that was following them around. The other thing he realizes, though, is that he knows this person.

“Rich,” Aaron breathes, and then his lungs feel like they’re full of ice water rather than just cold air. 

“What?” Matt asks, and then he stops. “Like the one that other guy was yelling about?” Aaron nods. Matt is turning already, though, jaw set and eyebrows low and fists clenched. Aaron grabs Matt’s arm to stop him, but Matt pulls away. “The fuck do you want?”

Rich hadn’t stopped jogging when the did, so when Aaron looks, Rich is already an arm’s length from Matt. Matt is drawing his arm back and taking a step back and Aaron knows he’s getting ready to punch this fucker, but -

“Get out of my fucking way,” Rich shouts, and brings his own hand up. 

Now, Aaron has seen Andrew use his knives entirely too many times - even if they were mostly just for threatening people - not to know what it looks like when someone is about to get stabbed. But something doesn’t click in his brain until Rich’s arm has already driven forward. Matt still punches him, but that doesn’t seem to matter much. 

“Fuck!” Matt yelps, and he jolts back from Rich, who is stumbling back anyway. 

Aaron watches the blood. It’s so bright and red as it hits the sidewalk and splatters over the dirty salt and dirt caked into the cracks. He’s frozen for perhaps two seconds before he reacts. He doesn’t have an exy racquet this time, but he’s not really certain that matters. 

Rich is lunging for Matt again when Aaron full-body tackles him into the building. The knife clatters out of his hand, and Aaron is punching him and kicking him and  _ screaming _ at him. He doesn’t know what he’s saying, he only knows that his mouth is moving and he still feels like he can’t breathe. 

“Aaron…” Matt’s soft croak from behind him is what makes him stop, fist still held in the air. He’s panting with exertion, but this fucker isn’t  _ dead yet _ and - “Babe.” The sound is even softer. Aaron looks away from the bloody mess that is Rich’s face now and cranes his neck to see over his shoulder. Matt is kneeling on the sidewalk, his hand pressed too high up on his side. 

“No.” Aaron drops Rich immediately and is by Matt’s side in less than a second. He's pushing Matt back, making him lay down. Before he realizes what he's doing, he's already stripped off his hoodie and he's using it to stop the bleeding - or trying to. 

He knows exactly where his phone is. It is still at the apartment, laying on the counter. He didn't want to look at it at all this morning. Now he regrets it. But - Matt has his. He shifts so that one hand is pressing hard into Matt’s side and he's digging into Matt’s pocket. His hand is slippery from too much blood, but he makes it work. 

“Need an ambulance,” he chokes out, and watches Matt close his eyes. “No! Matt! Keep your fucking eyes open!” The woman is speaking, but he doesn't know what she is saying. He chokes out an approximate address. “My...my boyfriend was stabbed. Upper torso. Fucking hurry.” 

She keeps trying to talk to him, but Aaron can't hear her anyway. He's too focused on Matt. Matt is pale already and Aaron - god, he doesn't know what to  _ do _ . First aid classes only taught him so much -

Aaron can already hear the sirens, and he is so, so glad that they are in Albany right now and it's too early for traffic. He smooths his fingers through Matt’s sweaty hair. Matt is tugging at his shirt near his hip, trying to hold on to him.

“It's gonna be okay,” Aaron whispers. “You're gonna be okay.” He doesn't say  _ you have to be _ because he can't bear to. “They're almost here.” 

Matt is too pale already, and Aaron  _ knows _ something is very wrong. He is shaking and he's pretty sure he's about to puke, but he just sits there and holds on to Matt until someone makes him move. 

After that, things are a blur. He watches them load Matt onto a gurney and get him into the ambulance. Aaron grabs Matt’s phone from the ground and shoves it in his pocket. He rides with them to the hospital because he can't leave Matt alone…

When they get there, he has one chance to squeeze Matt’s hand, and then he's gone, vanished behind doors that Aaron can't get behind. He stands there, in the middle of the chaos, for a solid minute before he has to run outside and puke. He goes back in the proper way and tells the guy at the desk what is going on. The guy tells him to wait for now, so he finds a chair in the back of the waiting room, as far from everyone else as possible, and he takes out Matt’s phone. 

He calls Randy first. “Hello?” She doesn't sound awake, and Aaron knows he doesn't want to be the one to make this call. “Matt? Everything okay?”

“It's Aaron,” he says, and he has to clear his throat to get the broken sound out of his voice. 

“What's wrong?” Randy sounds much more awake than she did two seconds ago. 

“I'm at the hospital. Matt was stabbed…” 

Randy doesn't say anything, but Aaron can hear movement. Finally, she says, “Which hospital? The one by his apartment?”

“Yeah,” Aaron whispers. 

“I'll be there in a minute.” She doesn't hang up, but it takes her a long moment before she speaks again. “What happened? How bad is he?”

He scrubs his hand through his hair. “This guy...fucking stalker ran up to us while we were jogging and stabbed him.” He doesn't tell her the rest - not yet. “Bad, probably.” He can vaguely remember hearing the EMS guy say something about a punctured lung. 

“Shit.” He can hear a door slam. “I'm on my way right now.” She tells him goodbye and he hangs up. 

It's his fault, really. He knows that. Rich had been after  _ him  _ for whatever reason and Matt got in the way. He curls in on himself and fights back tears. They won't do him any good. They never have. 

A cop finds him just a moment later, and Aaron is prepared to beg to stay there just until he knows Matt is okay. But the cop just sits down beside him at first. Aaron is leery of cops, especially considering his previous experiences with them. 

“We arrived just as the ambulance was carrying your friend away,” the cop says. Aaron doesn't even breathe loudly. “That other young man, the one against the wall, he was pretty messed up. He's here too, but I saw the knife on him so I've got him cuffed to a bed. I need you to tell me what happened.”

“There's already a report filed with whatever precinct is near the stadium,” Aaron mumbles. “That guy was stalking...us.” He forces the word out of his mouth and it feels like nails over his tongue. “He ran up to us while we were doing our cooldown from our run and attacked Matt first.” Aaron buries his face in his hands. “He was trying to get to me and Matt got in the fucking way.” 

“All right,” the cop says, a little gruff but not angry or upset. “I'll call down to that precinct and get their files. I need you to stay here, got it? If - Matt, was it? - was stabbed, then you had to be the one to mess that kid’s face up. I'd say that's self-defense considering the kid had a knife, but we gotta do this right.” 

Aaron looks up at the cop. “Just let me stay til his mom gets here?” His voice is barely more than a whisper. The cop looks a little surprised, but he nods. Aaron nods back and the cop gets up to go make his call. Aaron knows better though, he won’t say another word to this cop without a fucking lawyer. 

Aaron calls Andrew. He doesn't answer. So Aaron calls Nicky instead, and gets another bleary greeting. 

“Matt was stabbed,” Aaron spits out. “I beat the piss out of the guy that did it and when this cop finds out about the Drake shit, he's going to arrest me. Matt's mom will be here at the hospital soon.”

It takes a few seconds, and then, “Oh my God! Aaron! Are you okay? Is Matt gonna be all right? What the fuck happened? They're going to  _ arrest  _ you?”

“Nicky!” Aaron snaps. “Pay fucking attention. I'm not hurt. Matt is...bad. I don't know. I won't know anything. But I’m gonna go to fucking jail, so let me fucking talk to Andrew.”

“Holy shit, Aaron!” Nicky is still shouting. Aaron can hear him banging on a door and calling for Andrew. “Here!”

“What the fuck is going on?” Andrew asks, voice dead and flat and cold. 

Aaron takes a breath. He doesn't want to fucking repeat himself again, but at least Andrew will remember. “While we were running this morning, this guy attacked us and stabbed Matt. I know him, okay? His name is Rich Currie. I beat the shit out of him. Matt is...bad,” and fuck but he hates saying that, “but I'm not hurt. This cop is going to arrest me as soon as he figures out who I am. So just fucking keep in touch with Randy and bail me out of fucking jail, okay?”

Andrew is very quiet for a moment. “How do you know him?”

Aaron groans. This is not what the most concerning part of this conversation should be, dammit! “From my first high school. He turned into some kind of fucking stalker or some shit.” Aaron brings up his hand and covers his mouth to stop himself from chewing on his knuckles. 

“Have Boyd’s mother call me,” Andrew says, and hangs up. Aaron doesn't know what that means, but it doesn't really matter. He stares at Matt’s phone and the picture of the two of them he's got as his wallpaper. He wants to break it, but he doesn't. 

A couple of minutes later, the cop comes back, but Randy is right beside him. Aaron stands, apprehensive. He doesn't want to go back to fucking jail, he really doesn't. And considering the holiday? He'll be stuck there for days…

“Oh, Aaron,” Randy says. She pauses and looks over him. Aaron dimly realizes he's got a lot of Matt’s blood stained all over his brand new clothes. What surprises him, though, is that she closes the distance between them and folds him into a tight hug. He stands perfectly still, unsure of what to do. 

“I'm going to go talk to the kid,” the cop says. “Stay here.” 

Aaron waits until the cop is gone before he looks at Randy. “He's going to arrest me. You know that.”

She shakes her head. “No he won't,” she says, and smiles. “You were just defending my boy.”

Aaron shakes his head. “You haven't  _ seen _ …” He knows he probably broke Rich’s jaw and nose, and possibly more than that - at least a few teeth, he knows. “After the shit with Drake -”

“Shh,” Randy says, soothing him with a hand on his shoulder. “It's okay. Don't worry about going to jail. I won't let them. Let's see if we can figure anything out about Matt, okay?” Aaron watches her head over to the desk and he sits heavily in the chair. 

He isn't convinced. It won't be that easy. It never is - not for him. It doesn't matter that he was found not guilty - he's still a murderer. The jury only ruled the way they did because it was obviously in defense of his brother. Everyone had to suffer so that he could walk free. He doubts he’ll be so lucky a second time. 


	12. Aaron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...All of this started because he didn’t have enough sleep and because he saw that first fucking picture. He doesn’t know what to do anymore. Rich might not have even been the one sending the fucking pictures, even if Aaron suspects he was. He won’t know anything until either Rich confesses, the cops find evidence, or there’s a trial. There could be dozens more pictures on his phone by now, or they could have been leaked to the press - anything....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On my personal angst scale, this is only a 2. I am going to write an alternate ending that is a 5 (which is the worst possible outcome). You have been warned.
> 
> Tw for: panic attack?, jail, and general shittiness

Randy comes back from the desk with a frown on her face and her hands shoved deep in her pockets. She sits by Aaron with a heavy sigh but doesn’t immediately speak. Aaron is staring at his hands, spinning the ring on his right thumb over and over. Both of his hands are a bloody mess, and they ache. 

“They only told me he was in surgery,” Randy says at last. “They won’t tell me anything more.”

Aaron stands, mutters out, “Bathroom,” and bolts. He finds one down a mostly-deserted hallway and locks himself inside. He darts to the toilet just before he begins to vomit. The moment his stomach is empty, he sinks to the floor with his back to the wall. He’s shaking. His heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest. He can’t  _ breathe _ . 

It’s his fault. Matt is hurt because of him. If he’d stayed in Columbia - if he’d told Matt to run - if he’d pushed Matt out of the way - if he’d never come to Albany the first time - if he’d just been faster - if he’d never started this fucked up relationship with Matt in the first place - if, if, if…

He  _ hates  _ himself. It’s all his fault. 

He wraps his arms around himself. He’s crying, he thinks. He doesn’t really care. Matt is in surgery and he will have to go to fucking jail… 

His hands hurt so bad. So does his chest. His head hurts too. Everything is flaring with pain, and he doesn’t know what to do anymore. He curls tighter around himself and rocks back and forth, sucking in air as hard and as fast as he can. It still doesn’t feel like enough.

Matt’s phone is still in his pocket, but he’d forgotten about it until just now, as it vibrates against his thigh. He struggles to get his hand to curl around it and pull it out of his pocket, but he manages. It’s Andrew. He doesn’t say anything, but he holds the phone up to his ear.

“I need to speak to Boyd’s mother,” Andrew says, voice flat and cool - he’s all seriousness, perhaps, or maybe that’s just Aaron hoping. Andrew’s saved him before, after all…

“Later,” Aaron mutters, and he ends the call. It was enough to shock him out of whatever state he was in. He forces himself to stand and flush the toilet. At the sink, he carefully washes his hands, then his face, and hates that there’s nothing he can do about the bloodstains. 

He’s in a fog still. That part doesn’t go away. He reaches Randy just as Andrew calls again. Wordlessly, he gives her the phone. The cop, who was standing over by the doors, heads straight for him. 

Randy is arguing, he thinks. He doesn’t really know. The cop is reciting his Miranda rights as he puts handcuffs on him. He gives Randy a flat look and shakes his head once, and she looks back at him with wide eyes. He knew this was coming - he’d told her it was. She says something about a lawyer, he thinks, but he’s too far gone to care.

The back of the cop car is cold, almost as cold as it is outside, but Aaron can’t really feel it. He’s numb. Matt is in the hospital because of him, and here he is. This, he thinks, is all he’s ever going to amount to. He won’t get to go to Perelman or anything - he’ll be stuck dealing with another court case and more charges and he’ll never get out of this hole he’s in. 

It doesn’t take them long to get to the station. The little garage area is freezing cold too, judging by the coats the officers are wearing, but Aaron isn’t even shivering. Maybe he’s in shock. They take his shoes, but that’s all he has. He lost his hoodie forever ago, it seems, and so he’s only left in the stupid under armour gear and gym shorts. 

He’s done all of this before. Booking is boring and slow. He answers their questions, telling them exactly what they want to hear. When it comes to the psychological evaluation, he plays them. He knows he’s not okay, not by a long shot, but he’s not letting them throw him under a 72-hour hold again - hell no. So he gives all the right answers and he’s moved along to get fingerprinted and have his photo taken. Someone takes a look at his hands, but there’s nothing they can do for the old bite marks or the new tears from where he’d bashed in Rich’s teeth. Finally, he’s dumped in a cell alone. 

His thoughts spiral. He doesn’t know what’s going on with Matt. It was his fault. If Matt wakes up, he won’t be there. That’s his fault, too. Rich will probably be arrested too, but if he gets out of his cuffs, he might get to Matt. He’d be to blame for that because he didn’t kill Rich when he had the chance. He’s in jail anyway - he might as well be here for a damn good reason. 

Looking at his booking sheet, he’s in for 3rd-degree misdemeanor battery. He tosses the paper back down on the metal bench and rolls his eyes. Too bad it’s Saturday, otherwise he’d be let out as soon as he saw a judge. As it is, he thinks he’ll probably be stuck here until Monday. 

He brings his legs up and wraps his arms around them, then rests his forehead on his knees. He’s so fucking tired. He doesn’t even know what time it is. Nausea rolls around in his stomach, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have anything left to puke up. 

_ Why _ circles around and around in his mind, taunting him. He doesn’t know why - to any of it. Why did Rich stab Matt? Why was Rich after them? Why was Rich sending the pictures - if he was the one sending them anyway. Aaron doesn’t know, and it’s driving him crazy. He wishes he could beat the answers out of Rich, but he won’t be able to go anywhere near Rich - and as long as they’re in the same hospital, that means Matt, too. 

He sits like that until they bring him food. He thinks it might be lunch, but whatever it is smells horrible, so he doesn’t eat it. He’s not very hungry anyway. He drinks water out of the stupid fountain in the cell and ends up puking that up too, so he gives up the attempt. He only barely resists kicking the fucking tray back at the officer taking it away.

It doesn’t feel like much time has passed when he hears, “Minyard!” He uncurls himself and stands up, away from the door, and waits. It takes a minute, but finally, someone unlocks it. The officer waves him out. “Come on, let’s go.”

He steps out slowly, waiting for her to grab him and cuff him. He’s feeling enough now to know that his hands are in awful shape and that he’s cold. He really doesn’t want to make his hands hurt any worse. The cop leads him back to the booking area, but they don’t go through that door. She opens a different door instead and waves him in before shutting it behind him. 

Thirty seconds later, the door opens again. Aaron blinks in surprise. It’s very obviously a lawyer, but the surprising part is who’s with her - Coach Michaels. Michaels looks him over and grimaces, then tosses a deep blue and bright green Hawkes hoodie at him. Aaron tugs it on quickly, and even though it’s two sizes too big, he’s still grateful. 

“We’re posting your bail,” Michaels says, and he sits down in the chair across the table from Aaron. He thinks that’s probably where the frazzled-looking attorney wanted to sit, so he just stays standing in the corner and she eventually gets the hint and takes his seat. “Julie here is getting it taken care of.”

“How?” Aaron asks, genuinely confused. It’s a Saturday - how are they doing this without him going to see a judge first?

“The magistrate’s office has a bail chart in place for certain crimes,” Julie-the-attorney explains with an uncertain smile. “So even though it’s a Saturday, all we have to do is pay your bail and you can walk out of here. They’ll set your court date Monday and let me know.”

Aaron nods, but he still isn’t convinced. Michaels huffs. “Chill, kid. Any judge will take one look at this shit and dismiss the charges. This was self-defense, plain and simple. In fact, I want that cop’s badge number. His ass will be mine by the end of this.”

“Calm down, Uncle Jimmy,” Julie-the-attorney scolds. “Just let me handle this, okay?” She stands up and smooths her bright orange hair down before giving Aaron a shaky smile. “Now, I’m going to go harass the magistrate’s office until they take this money, and then you’re walking out of here with me and Coach Michaels, okay?”

Aaron just stares at her. Eventually, her smile drops and she sighs. Michaels laughs a little as Julie-the-attorney leaves the little room. Aaron turns his gaze on Michaels. He can’t figure out what’s going on. Why is Michaels - of all people - here?

“Randy Boyd called me,” Michaels says. “Told me what happened and all. Considering that you did what you did to protect one of my players, I figured you were owed. My niece, Julie, she’s a little air-headed sometimes, but she’s a good lawyer. She’ll take care of everything for you. Just don’t leave Albany until your court date. Deal?”

Aaron nods, mute. He can’t even get himself to say thanks. He’s overwhelmed. Michaels  _ knows _ who and what Matt is to him - of course he was going to protect him. Yet here he is, making it seem like Aaron has done something great. Doesn’t he understand that this is all Aaron’s fault in the first place?

Michaels just stares at him for a while before saying, “Randy said there was still no word on Matt yet. That was about an hour ago. I told her I’d call again at two, but they wouldn’t let me bring my phone in here. We’ll head straight to the hospital when we get out of here.” 

It's really all too much. Aaron sinks down in a crouch and buries his face in his hands. If Randy still hasn't heard anything about Matt and it's already after 2 in the afternoon, then things are so much worse than he thought. He doesn't know what to do. He feels so useless. He isn't crying, but fuck if he isn't close…

Michaels doesn't bother him. Aaron grieves for a while in total silence. Matt isn't dead, he can't be. That's all Aaron can think. If Matt dies it will be his fault and he will never forgive himself. He can't bear that thought, so he goes back to thinking, over and over, that Matt  _ can't die - he's not allowed to die. _

He winds up sitting on the floor staring at his hands. He can't even bend his fingers to spin the ring now. He's probably broken a knuckle or two. Wymack won't be happy, but fuck him, Aaron thinks. His fucked up hands were worth breaking Rich’s face into pieces. He hopes Rich can never use his jaw again. 

Some time later, he isn't sure how long because there isn't a clock in the room, Julie comes back with a smile on her face. “All right! Let's get you out of here, Mr. Minyard.” 

Aaron climbs to his feet and follows her out. He has to stop and do paperwork, which sucks because he can barely hold the pen he has to use to sign his name, and it's keeping him from Matt, but he's nearly free. Someone brings him his shoes and he crams his feet into them without bothering to tie them. He doubts he can manage anyway. 

Out in the lot, he manages a choked, “Thank you,” to the lawyer.

She gives him another bright smile. “I'll see you in a few days for your hearing, okay?” He nods. “Go see about Matt.” She leaves them and Michaels gestures for Aaron to follow him. They walk a block to get to a parking garage, then get into the coach’s black truck. 

Michaels uses a Bluetooth speaker set to call Randy. “Hey, Randy. It's Jimmy Michaels. I've got Aaron. We’re on our way.”

“Great,” Randy says, and it sounds like she is relieved. “They just came and found me and said Matt was stable and they've moved him to a room. I've got the doctor here so I'll talk to you when you get here.”

“Text me the room number,” Michaels says. 

“Will do.” Randy hangs up. 

Michaels looks at Aaron. “Anyone you need to call?” 

It's tempting, but Aaron shakes his head. All of his calls can wait until he's got Matt’s phone and he can go somewhere that no one will overhear him. He has to call Nicky and Andrew, of course, but he also thinks he should probably call Betsy. He's far too close to an edge he doesn't want to slip off of. 

They ride in silence, but Michaels gets them to the hospital quickly. He parks in the parking deck across the street and they make their way inside. Matt is on the ninth floor, apparently. Aaron gets a lot of strange looks, but he ignores them all. He doesn't care about them. He just wants to see Matt. 

Randy meets them outside of the room. “Aaron!” She latches onto him a fierce hug and doesn't let go for a long time. Aaron thaws to the touch eventually and wraps his arms around her in return. 

“I have been so worried. Are you okay? Did you eat anything? We’ll get you something in a little bit.” She pulls back and just looks at him for a moment. “Matt is going to be okay. The knife punctured his lung and a lot of blood got in it, I guess, and they had to do surgery, but he's better now and they said that once the anesthesia wears off, we can talk to him. It won't be too long.”

Aaron wants to cry in earnest now. Matt was so badly hurt and he couldn't do  _ anything _ . He hates himself so much for being so useless. He is also so, so happy that Matt will be okay. It's a confusing wash of emotions and it's really too much. 

He looks at the closed door. Randy follows his gaze and gives him a little smile. She steps away from him and pushes him gently forward. “Go on. I'll talk to Jimmy and be in there in a second. I've already been to see him.”

Aaron half nods and opens the door. He knows, objectively, that Matt won't look good. But when he sees him, it takes everything he has to keep himself standing. It's like the floor itself just vanished from under him. He takes a few shaky steps to get closer to the bed and stops to stare at Matt. He's so pale. He is breathing on his own, at least, which Aaron knows is a good sign. 

He reaches out and touches Matt’s hand with his fingers. He can't hold Matt’s hand because his own hands are so fucked up, but he can touch him a little. He doesn't realize until then that he's shaking again. He doesn't even really know why this time. 

“Matt,” he whispers. He just wants him to wake up. He wants to see his eyes again. Aaron flinches hard when the door opens behind him. Randy is coming in the room with Michaels on her heels. 

“Christ.” Michaels swears and rubs his hand over his face. “Randy, you tell that boy he better be ready to go by next season.” Randy just shakes her head. Michaels looks at Aaron. “Boyd’s such a ditz sometimes, I worry about him. You keep an eye on him.” Aaron doesn't respond - he can't. He's almost never  _ with _ Matt, so how can he do that? Michaels nods once, as if Aaron agreed anyway, and leaves the room. 

“Here,” Randy says, and hands Aaron Matt’s phone. “Your brother wants you to call him.” Aaron takes the phone and stares at it for a moment. Randy seems to notice his hands. “Holy shit, honey, they didn't do anything for your hands?”

“Can't do much for them,” he mutters. 

“Oh yes you can,” she shoots back. She takes his hand and holds it gently. “I'm pretty sure a couple of your knuckles are broken. You need to get your hand X-rayed and then a doctor will decide if you need surgery or not.” She holds up one of her own hands. “I've broken my own, and once I had to have surgery and once they just splinted it. Depends on the break.” 

He nods, but he doesn't really care. His hands are fucked, he knows, but right now he just doesn't have the energy to care. He just wants to be here with Matt. Randy spins the ring on his thumb to get his attention back on her. 

“We’ll compromise, okay?” She smiles. “After Matt wakes up, we get your hands taken care of. All right?” He nods, just to pacify her. “I'll hold you to that.” He nods again. She then lets him go and pats his shoulder. “He won't be up for a little longer yet, so I'm going to run around here for a minute until I can find us something to eat. Call me if he wakes up before I get back.” 

Aaron watches her go, then takes the chair by the window and shoves it close to the bed. He lays his head by Matt’s hip and moves Matt’s hand so that it's on his hair. He closes his eyes. He's so fucking tired. 

He isn't lucky enough to sleep, though. Matt's phone starts to ring just then. He groans, but he answers it when he sees that it's Nicky. He lifts his head and Matt’s hand falls to the mattress. “I'm out,” he says first. 

“Oh thank god!” Nicky shouts. “I was getting so worried! Randy didn't know anything at all, no one did, and you didn't call us from the jail so we were freaking out.”

“It's not like you could do anything,” Aaron snaps. “I'm in fucking New York. I'm like a thousand miles away. There was no point in me calling.”

“You could have called to let us know you were okay!” Nicky snaps back. “Jesus, Aaron! We worry about you, all right? I'm sorry that's such an inconvenience for you, but we aren't going to stop. I could give a shit if I was in fucking Germany. I'd still like to know you're okay!”

Aaron sighs. “Sorry.” He doesn't sound sorry, but he really is. 

“Whatever,” Nicky mutters. “How's Matt? Is he out of surgery?”

“Yeah,” Aaron mumbles. “I just got here. He's not awake yet, but he's stable and all.”

“That's good.” Nicky says something to someone else that Aaron can't quite hear. “Andrew says to tell you that you owe him ice cream.”

“For what?” Aaron asks, rolling his eyes. 

“Making him worry? I don't know. Just do it. Hell, you owe me a tequila night for making  _ me _ worry.”

“It's not like I fucking  _ asked _ to get arrested.” Aaron's temper flares again. “You spend all fucking day in jail and tell me how you fucking like it. I've done it twice now. It fucking sucks, Nicky.”

“I know you're in a pissy mood right now,” Nicky says, his voice holding a warning tone, “but that does not give you permission to take all your shit out on me.” 

Aaron hangs up. He doesn't want to deal with any of that right now. He's been through entirely too much shit today as it is. 

He lays his head back down on the bed and he puts Matt’s hand back on his hair. He’s exhausted, so he closes his eyes. He didn’t sleep much last night, and the last couple of days have been hell - to say nothing for the entire week before. He just wants Matt to wake up, to be okay.

All of this started because he didn’t have enough sleep and because he saw that first fucking picture. He doesn’t know what to do anymore. Rich might not have even been the one sending the fucking pictures, even if Aaron suspects he was. He won’t know anything until either Rich confesses, the cops find evidence, or there’s a trial. There could be dozens more pictures on his phone by now, or they could have been leaked to the press - anything. 

He’s been so afraid for years… He never wanted anyone to find out about any of this. Now it feels like everyone knows. All he wants to do is hide somewhere for the rest of his life so he never has to face any of this again. But he can’t do that, and he knows it. He’s worked too hard for med school, for Perelman, for his scholarships - even for Matt, when he thinks hard about it. He doesn’t feel like he has any right to say he’s worked as hard as Matt has, or sacrificed nearly as much, but he  _ has  _ worked for this...

Seeing Matt now, and watching him get hurt, he regrets all of the pain he’s probably made Matt suffer. He feels like shit for everything he’s done. All of the drugs, getting himself shot, freaking out and winding up in the hospital - all of it. He doesn’t know how Matt could stand it. He’s pretty sure he’s probably the worst boyfriend on the face of the planet. When Matt wakes up, he’s going to apologize. Whether that means anything or not, well, he will just have to wait and see… He honestly won’t blame Matt if he never wants anything to do with Aaron ever again after all of this shit.

He can’t stay awake any longer. Without meaning to, and pretty much without even realizing it, he falls asleep. Having Matt’s hand on his hair is comforting in an odd way, but he doesn’t mind it. He can’t even quite bring himself to care that someone might see them like this. Randy knows, Matt’s coach knows, so why the fuck does it matter if some of the hospital staff know? Hell, even the fucking cops know now. He just can’t be bothered when he’s so tired that he feels like breathing is too much of a chore. So he sleeps. 


	13. Aaron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ....Aaron just stares at him for a long moment. Matt is awake and smiling and his eyes are open. And then Aaron is crying, before he even realizes what he's doing. He's bent over the bed and shoving the blanket over Matt to his face and shaking. Matt rubs his back and whispers things to him that Aaron can't hear over his own gasping breaths. Then he's choking out actual sobs and he can't fucking stand it....

 When he wakes, Matt’s hand is still on his hair. But it's moving. He thinks maybe that's what woke him up. Matt's fingers are brushing so softly through his hair. Blinking, he slowly sits up, and Matt moves his hand away.

“Hey,” Matt says, smiling.

Aaron just stares at him for a long moment. Matt is awake and smiling and _his eyes are open_. And then Aaron is crying, before he even realizes what he's doing. He's bent over the bed and shoving the blanket over Matt to his face and shaking. Matt rubs his back and whispers things to him that Aaron can't hear over his own gasping breaths. Then he's choking out actual sobs and he can't fucking stand it.

“It's okay,” Matt says, probably again, but this time he's loud enough for Aaron to hear him. “It's okay.”

“No it's fucking _not_ ,” Aaron gasps out, and presses his forehead harder to the mattress and up against Matt’s hip.

“I'm gonna be okay, Aaron.” Matt scoops his hand under Aaron’s chin and lifts his head so that Aaron has to look at him. “I’m not dead. I'm gonna be all right.”

Aaron can't stop the stupid tears. But he doesn't want to look away from Matt, either. He just sits there, half bent over, and stares at him, taking him in. He's got some of his color back, so he isn't as pale, but he doesn't look great either. It's so hard to just _believe_.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “It’s all my fault. I’m sorry, Matt. I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” Matt says, so soft and gentle that Aaron can’t stand it. There’s a lot about this situation he can’t stand. “It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

Aaron shakes his head. It _is_ his fault. All of this is his fault. But that’s only part of what he’s apologizing for. “That’s not -” he chokes on his words and has to swallow and start again. “It is, but… I’m sorry for making you worry so much about me, too. All this...this shit is so fucking hard and I don’t know how you did it. And I don’t know why you’re still even with me. I don’t deserve it. And I - I was so worried about you. And I wasn’t _here_ -”

“Aaron.” Matt cuts him off quickly. “Breathe.”

Aaron does his best, he really does, but it doesn’t feel like enough. Matt smooths his hand over Aaron’s hair and that, somehow, makes it easier. It doesn’t make any sense, but it works. Matt notices, so he keeps doing it until Aaron isn’t shaking and he manages to stop fucking crying. He uses the blanket and the heels of his hands to wipe his face off.

“I’m still sorry,” Aaron mutters. “For all of it. For the shit with Rich and Cam, for freaking the fuck out the other day, for being such a fucking asshole, for not warning you about the fucking knife and letting you get hurt. For getting arrested again and not being here…”

“Wait a second.” Matt drops his hand. “You were arrested? When? For what?”

Aaron just stares at him. “You...you didn’t know?” Matt shakes his head. “Fuck. I...sort of snapped, I guess. I beat the piss out of Rich for stabbing you. Probably broke most of his face, maybe some other shit. The cop arrested me after your mom got to the hospital. I spent most of the day in fucking lockup.”

“That was self-defense,” Matt says. He says it like a fact, like there’s no other alternative and no possible other interpretation. “How did you get out?”

“Your coach bailed me out,” Aaron mutters, and picks at the blanket with his swollen and aching fingers. “I guess his niece is a lawyer. She did the paperwork.”

“Remind me to thank him,” Matt sighs. He lifts his arm and puts his hand on Aaron’s shoulder. “I’m not supposed to move, so come here.” Aaron eyes him, but he stands up and leans a little closer. Matt’s arm hooks over his neck and tugs him down. Matt kisses him like his life depends on it, and Aaron melts into it. He has to break it because he knows Matt shouldn’t be doing this, but he hates to do it. He sinks right back down into his chair.

Aaron stares at him for a long time, and then he has to look away, so he looks at his hands. “How...how can you still want...to do that? Still want _me_?”

“What do you mean?”

“I caused all of this. I wasn’t fast enough to stop him. I went to fucking jail again because I almost...I almost killed him for what he did to you.” Aaron whispers his little confession. He dimly realizes that he hasn’t even looked around the room to see if anyone else is in here. It probably doesn’t matter anyway.

“This wasn’t your fault,” Matt says again. “You didn’t cause anything. I don’t know what his problem was, but it wasn’t anything you did. And you defended me just like you defended Andrew. How can I be upset with you for that? Fuck, babe. If anything, it only makes me love you more.”

Aaron jerks his head up. He’s staring at Matt with wide eyes and an open mouth. No one’s ever said that to him. He feels frozen, like everything in him just shut down completely. Matt gives him a sheepish smile and reaches up to scratch at the side of his neck. But he’s not taking it back. He’s not looking away. He’s not even trying to cover it up with more words. Aaron doesn’t know how to  _deal_ with this.

But then the door opens and Randy comes in. “Look who’s awake!” She’s grinning brightly. “Matt woke up about an hour ago, but he told me not to wake you up, so we let you sleep.”

Aaron looks over at her and forces himself to close his mouth and school his expression into something less, something closer to blank and less full of total fucking shock. She’s got a familiar bright orange duffel on her shoulder alongside Matt’s dark blue and bright green Hawks duffel. She closes the door behind her and she’s almost bouncing as she walks into the room.

“Thanks, Mom,” Matt says.

Randy just waves her hand at him. “I’m ready to see you looking more like yourself anyway, so I was more than happy to run and get your stuff. I figured Aaron wouldn’t want to leave any time soon, so I grabbed his bag too. He can shower and get those bloody clothes off.”

Matt jerks his head over to Aaron with his eyebrows halfway up his forehead. “Bloody?”

Aaron gestures to the hoodie he’s wearing. “You think this is some kind of fashion statement?” Sarcasm is easier right now, and so is being an asshole, so he adds, “I wouldn’t be caught dead in your team’s colors.”

Matt just grins and barely stops himself from laughing. “Don’t make me laugh, dammit!” He wraps his arm over his side. “I’m not allowed.” He takes a moment, then looks over Aaron again. “You’ve been...like that all day?”

“It’s not like I’d willingly wear the paper shit they offered in lockup,” Aaron says, rolling his eyes. “At least if you died, I could just use the DNA in your blood to make a new one of you.”

Matt is perilously close to laughing again. Randy does laugh, and it must be a statement to everything Matt has told her about him, because Aaron doesn’t think he sounded particularly funny just then. Then again, Matt’s always laughing whenever Aaron says things that are particularly morbid or fatalistic, and usually, it makes Aaron smirk because he likes at least being able to make Matt laugh every once in a while.

“Now that you’re awake,” Randy says, dropping his bag by the chair and leaving Matt’s bag on the arm of the little couch under the window, “call your brother and Betsy, please.” Aaron flinches a little at the word ‘please’ because he’s grown so used to never hearing it, but the moment passes quickly. “After Matt’s phone died, Andrew started calling me. I told him you were asleep, so he said for you to call him as soon as you woke up.”

Aaron rolls his eyes. “Later,” he says. He looks back at Matt. “I need a shower.”

Matt nods and then lifts one of Aaron’s hands tenderly. “Get these taken care of when you're done?”

“We have a deal, don’t forget,” Randy adds from somewhere behind him.

He can only nod. He loops his arm through his bag rather than trying to grip the strap and carries it to the bathroom connected to Matt’s room. It’s difficult to do things without really being able to bend his fingers or use his hands in general, but he manages to strip and shower. Getting dressed again is harder. Once he’s dressed in black sweatpants and an old, hand-me-down, band tee shirt, he brushes his teeth and leaves the bathroom.

Matt’s eyes are closed when he looks at him, and that makes him freeze and panic for a moment. Then Randy says, “He’s on some pretty strong pain-killers, so they knock him out every now and again. He’ll probably be awake again in a couple of hours. He’s been in and out of it all afternoon.” Aaron looks at the clock and only just now realizes that it’s after seven. “I told him we were going to go downstairs to get your hands taken care of and get something to eat, so don’t worry. He has his phone back now too, and it’s charging, so he can text us if he wakes up.” Randy stands and crosses the room before giving Aaron his phone. He eyes it for a long time. “Matt asked to see it first. He said you were worried about more pictures. He said there were none, just a lot of stuff from your family.”

Aaron nods at her and takes a breath. He’s got dozens of missed calls from Nicky, two from Andrew, one even from Neil, and four missed calls from Katelyn. He feels a little guilty, but he’ll deal with all of that later. Right now, he knows he needs food and to get his hands seen about. So he follows Randy out of Matt’s room and she leads them to an elevator.

“I did have a lot to say to you, you know,” Randy says, leaning against the back wall with her hands in her pocket. She’s giving him a thoughtful look. It makes Aaron tense. “Matt was a mess when I talked to him before Christmas. There was so much going on between you two and with the picture business and everything. He was so overwhelmed, and I get the feeling you really don’t make things easy for him.” Aaron knows she’s right. “But…” She sighs. “What you did for him, and how happy he was to see you - even drugged out of his literal mind - when he woke up… That says a lot to me.”

His throat feels tight and he can’t look at her. As the elevator doors open, he says, “He’s too good for me. I know that.”

Randy laughs. “Matt has his problems just like everyone else.” She wraps her arm around Aaron’s shoulders and he’s stiff as he walks beside her. If she notices, she doesn’t comment, but she also doesn’t take her arm away. If anything, she pulls him closer. “I do need you to make me a promise, though. I know he was high out of his mind earlier, but he loves you.” Aaron’s chest tightens at that and his mind blanks out for a moment. Randy’s voice brings him back. “You have to promise me that you’ll take better care of yourself - even if it’s just for his sake. Okay?”

Aaron manages a nod. He can’t speak. Randy doesn’t press him for anything more, and she lets him go. They walk together to the emergency room and she takes care of everything for him to get his hands taken care of. While he’s waiting to be seen, she leaves to find him something to eat. She comes back with some Fire Pot Soup - and fuck but Aaron loves Thai food, it’s always so spicy - and he eats it gratefully since it’s easier to manage a spoon right now than anything else.

When he’s called back, Randy goes with him - much to his surprise. She does all of the talking, and he’s grateful. He's barely said anything more than a quick “thanks” when he got the soup since he got in the shower. It’s nice, he thinks. He feels a bit off-kilter. This woman he barely knows _cares_ for him.

His hands are X-rayed and it’s decided that the bones will heal well enough if they’re set and splinted. They shoot his hands up with local anesthetic, but even so, he can still feel them shifting the bones around. He grinds his teeth until they’re finished taping his first two fingers together on his right hand and his middle and ring fingers together on his left hand. He’s given a couple of ice packs and sent on his way.

They go straight back to Matt’s room, but as soon as Randy checks on Matt and sees that he’s still doing okay - just sleeping - she leaves again, claiming she has to call Matt’s dad. Aaron uses the time to steal a blanket from the little cupboard and curls up in the corner of the little couch. He calls Betsy first. She’s not exceedingly helpful, and less so when it comes to Matt’s little confession - or his own - but he does feel a little better after he hangs up.

Nicky answers on the first ring when he calls him. “Aaron!”

“Sorry I was an asshole earlier,” Aaron grates out.

“It’s okay,” Nicky says softly, and Aaron can picture the little smile he would be willing to bet Nicky has on his face. “How are you doing?”

“Well I was able to take a shower and eat,” Aaron sighs, “but I also have two broken knuckles.”

“Jesus.” Nicky says something to someone else. “Everyone’s been worried sick about you, just so you know. Neil and Wymack are gonna be pissed when they find out about your hands, though.”

“Fuck them,” Aaron grunts. “It was worth it.”

Nicky laughs a little. “I fucking hope so. Andrew looks like he’s about to stab me if I don’t give him the phone, so here.”

The phone changes hands, and Aaron rubs at his forehead. “Why didn’t you call?” Andrew demands.

“Hello to you too, Andrew,” Aaron says dryly. “I’m doing okay, thanks for asking. I fucked my hands all up, so I’ll be fucking useless for your shitty boyfriend’s stupid spring championship games, but I don’t really care.”

Andrew is very quiet for a long moment. “He isn't my _boyfriend_.”

He can hear the sneer in Andrew's voice, but he still snorts out a laugh. “Sure whatever.” Matt shifts on the bed and Aaron looks over at him. “Matt is waking up so say whatever you have to say.”

“I would have bailed you out.”

“With what money, Andrew?” Aaron saw how much his bail was. He knows good and well Andrew doesn't have that kind of money.

“ _Neil_ would have bailed you out,” Andrew says, and it sounds like it's painful for him to do so. “Who paid for it, then?”

“Matt’s coach,” Aaron answers dully. “For ‘protecting' him or some other bullshit.” He still doesn't feel like he protected Matt at all. He still feels like it's his fault.

“When is your court date?”

“I find out Monday.” Aaron watches Matt open his eyes. “Bye, Andrew.” He hangs up without listening to hear if Andrew had anything more to add. Matt is smiling at him, and that's all Aaron can really bring himself to care about right now. He moves back to the chair and fits his still-mangled hand into Matt’s, even though it's still cold from the ice pack.

“Hey,” Matt says, and even that word is a little slurred. “Feelin’ okay? Hands better?”

Aaron nods. He can't help but think about what Matt said earlier, before Randy came in the room. He doesn't know how to respond. Any words he might have had are gone now. He looks down at where their hands are awkwardly linked together because of the splint.

“Where's Mom?” Matt asks.

“Said she had to call your dad,” Aaron mutters. “She’ll be back soon. Go back to sleep.”

Matt grunts. He lifts Aaron’s hand and kisses his fingertips. “Jus’ woke up.” He gives Aaron a dopey smile. “Figure out when I can leave, okay?”

Aaron looks up at him. “Not tomorrow. You just had major surgery. They have to keep you for a while.”

“Why? ‘Can rest at home better than here.” He gestures down himself. “In my clothes. And not pee in a bag.”

Aaron snorts a little laugh at that. “Bed pans aren't much better.” Matt makes a face at that and Aaron can't help but smile just a tiny bit. This back-and-forth is easy.

“I can get up,” Matt whines. “They just won’t let me.”

“You’ll rip your stitches and get stuck here even longer.” Aaron lifts his free hand and brushes back some of Matt’s hair. “Just wait and see what they say tomorrow, okay?” Matt nods and closes his eyes. Aaron thinks he's about to go back to sleep again, and he's glad for it. Matt needs rest, needs to heal.

But then Matt says, “I'm not sorry about what I said. Earlier.” His eyes open and he looks at Aaron with a tiny smile. He doesn't look quite so high anymore. “It's true.”

“Don't say that,” Aaron whispers, and looks away. He doesn't pull his hand away because Matt is still holding it, but he sort of wants to. “You can't…”

“Can't what?” Matt asks. “Can't say it or can't mean it? Because I do.”

“Stop.” Aaron can barely get the word out. Matt doesn't get to say these things. He really doesn't. Not now, maybe not ever. Aaron can't handle it. No one has ever loved him. Matt can't possibly love him.

“Aaron.” Matt tugs gently at Aaron's hand until Aaron finally looks up at him. “You don't have to say it. I don't expect you to, okay? I know it isn't easy for you. But I love you and I want you to know it. I wanted to tell you days ago, but I just...couldn't seem to figure out how.”

Aaron looks away again. He can't bear looking at Matt when he's got such an earnest expression. Maybe Matt knows him better than Aaron thought. It shouldn't be such a surprise, but it is. They've been doing...this...for a bit over a year now. It shouldn't surprise him to hear Matt say this, but it does and it hurts. He can't figure out how to get it into words.

“It'll get easier,” Matt says softly. “One day, it will be easier for you to hear me tell you that I love you. Just...keep that in mind?”

“You sound like Betsy,” Aaron chokes out. Matt is smiling when he looks at him. “I'd say ‘I hate you’ but that's Andrew's thing.”

“He doesn't mean it anyway,” Matt says lightly. “You can figure something else out. Until then, stay here with me?”

Aaron sighs a little. “At least until I have to go back to Palmetto.” Matt grins brightly and kisses Aaron’s fingers again. “You're going to be insufferable now, aren't you?”

“Only slightly more than usual,” Matt says happily. Aaron shakes his head, but he does make himself more comfortable in the chair. “You tolerate me, so that has to count for something, right?”

“I think you've got that backwards,” Aaron mutters. “You're the one tolerating me.” Matt must hear the unspoken part of the rest of that sentence, because he smiles so wide it's a wonder his face doesn't break in half. Aaron just shakes his head a little and he finds the remote for the small tv in the room.

Watching movies together is something they've always done, even before they were together. It's easy to slip into a comfortable place like this. Aaron falls asleep half curled in the chair and half on Matt’s bed. Randy sleeps on the couch after she returns. Matt sleeps on and off with the drugs. It's a long night, but it's not the worst it could be, considering their circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> National Suicide Prevention Hotline:
> 
> 1-800-273-8255
> 
> Special thanks to lena, Annimfl, happilyevalarry, and (especially) webedragons for being so fucking amazing and awesome and leaving me so many comments. ♥
> 
>  
> 
> [Come yell at me on tumblr!](http://wingsofwaxx.tumblr.com/ask)
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and leaving kudos and commenting and bookmarking and everything else! :D


	14. The Alternate Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He is alone in a much smaller cell when he wakes. Everything hurts - his insides and his outsides, all over his body. So he doesn't really move. He just sort of curls up on himself and stares at the wall some more. He’s totally checked out every time anyone tries to speak to him or get him to eat or anything at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the maximum pain alternate ending. But I could have done worse because I could have been more descriptive. I was not, for the sake of my own very limited sanity.
> 
> Trigger warnings for rape and suicide.
> 
> Additional notes: everything up to the first page break will look familiar - that is part of chapter 12. After the page break is where the true "alternate" part begins. 
> 
> Special, lovely thanks to [webedragons](http://webedragons.tumblr.com/) for being a fantastic beta for this chapter and just being generally wonderful.

Randy comes back from the desk with a frown on her face and her hands shoved deep in her pockets. She sits by Aaron with a heavy sigh but doesn’t immediately speak. Aaron is staring at his hands, spinning the ring on his right thumb over and over. Both of his hands are a bloody mess, and they ache. 

“They only told me he was in surgery,” Randy says at last. “They won’t tell me anything more.”

Aaron stands, mutters out, “Bathroom,” and bolts. He finds one down a mostly-deserted hallway and locks himself inside. He darts to the toilet just before he begins to vomit. The moment his stomach is empty, he sinks to the floor with his back to the wall. He’s shaking. His heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest. He can’t  _ breathe _ . 

It’s his fault. Matt is hurt because of him. If he’d stayed in Columbia - if he’d told Matt to run - if he’d pushed Matt out of the way - if he’d never come to Albany the first time - if he’d just been faster - if he’d never started this fucked up relationship with Matt in the first place - if, if, if…

He  _ hates  _ himself. It’s all his fault. 

He wraps his arms around himself. He’s crying, he thinks. He doesn’t really care. Matt is in surgery and he will have to go to fucking jail… 

His hands hurt so bad. So does his chest. His head hurts too. Everything is flaring with pain, and he doesn’t know what to do anymore. He curls tighter around himself and rocks back and forth, sucking in air as hard and as fast as he can. It still doesn’t feel like enough.

Matt’s phone is still in his pocket, but he’d forgotten about it until just now, as it vibrates against his thigh. He struggles to get his hand to curl around it and pull it out of his pocket, but he manages. It’s Andrew. He doesn’t say anything, but he holds the phone up to his ear.

“I need to speak to Boyd’s mother,” Andrew says, voice flat and cool - he’s all seriousness, perhaps, or maybe that’s just Aaron hoping. Andrew’s saved him before, after all…

“Later,” Aaron mutters, and he ends the call. It was enough to shock him out of whatever state he was in. He forces himself to stand and flush the toilet. At the sink, he carefully washes his hands, then his face, and hates that there’s nothing he can do about the bloodstains. 

He’s in a fog still. That part doesn’t go away. He reaches Randy just as Andrew calls again. Wordlessly, he gives her the phone. The cop, who was standing over by the doors, heads straight for him. 

Randy is arguing, he thinks. He doesn’t really know. The cop is reciting his Miranda rights as he puts handcuffs on him. He gives Randy a flat look and shakes his head once, and she looks back at him with wide eyes. He knew this was coming - he’d told her it was. She says something about a lawyer, he thinks, but he’s too far gone to care.

The back of the cop car is cold, almost as cold as it is outside, but Aaron can’t really feel it. He’s numb. Matt is in the hospital because of him, and here he is. This, he thinks, is all he’s ever going to amount to. He won’t get to go to Perelman or anything - he’ll be stuck dealing with another court case and more charges and he’ll never get out of this hole he’s in. 

It doesn’t take them long to get to the station. The little garage area is freezing cold too, judging by the coats the officers are wearing, but Aaron isn’t even shivering. Maybe he’s in shock. They take his shoes, but that’s all he has. He lost his hoodie forever ago, it seems, and so he’s only left in the stupid under armour gear and gym shorts. 

He’s done all of this before. Booking is boring and slow. He answers their questions, telling them exactly what they want to hear. When it comes to the psychological evaluation, he plays them. He knows he’s not okay, not by a long shot, but he’s not letting them throw him under a 72-hour hold again - hell no. So he gives all the right answers and he’s moved along to get fingerprinted and have his photo taken. Someone takes a look at his hands, but there’s nothing they can do for the old bite marks or the new tears from where he’d bashed in Rich’s teeth. Finally, he’s dumped in a cell alone. 

His thoughts spiral. He doesn’t know what’s going on with Matt. It was his fault. If Matt wakes up, he won’t be there. That’s his fault, too. Rich will probably be arrested too, but if he gets out of his cuffs, he might get to Matt. He’d be to blame for that, because he didn’t kill Rich when he had the chance. He’s in jail anyway - he might as well be here for a damn good reason. 

Looking at his booking sheet, he’s in for 3rd-degree misdemeanor battery. He tosses the paper back down on the metal bench and rolls his eyes. Too bad it’s Saturday, otherwise he’d be let out as soon as he saw a judge. As it is, he thinks he’ll probably be stuck here until Monday. 

He brings his legs up and wraps his arms around them, then rests his forehead on his knees. He’s so fucking tired. He doesn’t even know what time it is. Nausea rolls around in his stomach, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have anything left to puke up. 

_ Why _ circles around and around in his mind, taunting him. He doesn’t know why - to any of it. Why did Rich stab Matt? Why was Rich after them? Why was Rich sending the pictures - if he was the one sending them anyway. Aaron doesn’t know, and it’s driving him crazy. He wishes he could beat the answers out of Rich, but he won’t be able to go anywhere near Rich - and as long as they’re in the same hospital, that means Matt, too. 

He sits like that until they bring him food. He thinks it might be lunch, but whatever it is smells horrible, so he doesn’t eat it. He’s not very hungry anyway. He drinks water out of the stupid fountain in the cell and ends up puking that up too, so he gives up the attempt. He only barely resists kicking the fucking tray back at the officer taking it away.

* * *

He goes back to staring at the wall in silence. He doesn't bother calling anyone, even though there is a keypad and speaker on the wall. There's no point in calling because no one can save him from this. He just curls around himself and waits.

Later - he doesn't know what time - they call him out. He is cuffed and put into leg irons and then taken to another cop car. He doesn't say a word, even when the cops try to engage him. There's no point to any of it. He will bear his misery in silence. They take him to a detention facility to wait out the weekend and however long it will take for him to go to trial. 

The whole process would be humiliating if he had any brain space to even care. They make him strip and shower and dress in crap that is state-issued and ill-fitting. He's spoken to by more mental health people, and he sullenly answers their questions because he has no other choice. A nurse actually splints his hands here, and layers some gauze over the open cuts, and then he's sent to a cell somewhere else with a thin plastic mattress, a thin plastic pillow, and a mesh bag full of the other shit he will need. 

His food is brought to him, because he is not allowed out of this little cell. He will be tomorrow, just into the day-room area where the shower and phones are, but that's all that's out there other than people. He doesn't sleep.

He cannot make his mind be silent. He's worried about Matt. There's nothing he can do, of course, but he still wants to  _ know _ . He wants to talk to him or to Randy at least. He wants to apologize. 

He can't do anything until after he gets what they deem breakfast - he eats only the bread and orange. Then he finds a phone, discovers how to call out, and calls Matt’s phone because he doesn't know Randy’s number. 

She answers on the second ring. “Hello?” Her voice is hoarse.

“It's Aaron,” he mutters. 

“Oh,” she says. And then he can hear her crying. Everything stops. His mind can't process her words, even as she babbles into the phone about a complication during the surgery. He can't recall what those complications are or anything else, just that word. 

“I’m sorry,” is all he can choke out. He shaking so badly, but he forces himself to call Andrew anyway. The moment the line connects, he spits out, “Matt's fucking dead.”

There is a long pause. “Where are you?”

“Doesn't fucking matter. I'm stuck here til I go to court.” Aaron hangs up, having done and said all he can bear to do. He goes back to his cell and sits on the stupid plastic mattress, his arms wrapped around his knees, and stares at the wall. 

He doesn't eat at all for the rest of the day and barely stands for the stupid counts. He's lost. He was too slow to protect Matt, too weak. He's useless, and now Matt is dead and he’s  _ here _ . He hates himself. All of this is his fault, and he can't do anything about it. He can't even grieve properly because of where he is. It's a horrible, vicious cycle of thought, and he's trapped, wordless. 

Monday comes, and he is called out. Randy has sent a lawyer, apparently. He tells Aaron he will take care of everything when they go to court on Wednesday. Wednesday. Aaron has two more days in this hell. He wasn't in jail this long when he murdered fucking Drake. He goes quietly back to his cell, but there is another person in there now, and all of Aaron’s shit has been moved to the top bunk. 

Aaron isn't there to fight, he doesn't really care, so he just climbs up there and sits and totally ignores the other guy. It pisses the other guy off, but Aaron can't find it in himself to give a shit. Matt is  _ dead _ . 

After lights out, the guy tries threatening Aaron, even punches him, but Aaron never really moves. He still hasn't slept. He can't. He doesn't know if he will ever be able to sleep again. His whole body is shutting down from lack of sleep and food. It doesn't matter. The other guy gives up and sleeps eventually.

The other guy - Aaron doesn't even know his name - takes Aaron’s food at breakfast, then again at lunch. Aaron is listless. He can't function at all. Nothing is worth doing, so he just sits there and stares at the wall. The other guy doesn't leave him alone, just gets worse. 

The time between dinner and the final count is the longest amount of unsupervised time they have at nearly an hour. The other guy eats, then leaves the cell, and returns with two others. Aaron doesn't even look at them until they grab him. 

After he realizes their intentions, he fights. He kicks and punches, and bites, but his hands are fucked to hell and back and he's so weak from no sleep and no food. One of the guys grabs his hair and slams his head into the floor. After Aaron keeps fighting, he does it again, and again. Aaron is dazed. He can't feel most of his body, but he can feel them hurting him. He can feel them literally tearing him apart. He never once makes a sound. 

After they are finished, they leave him there. Aaron can't even pass out from the pain or the blood loss or the concussion he knows he has now. He blinks at the wall, unmoving. 

Someone does find him. He knows this. He can remember them moving him and how totally unresponsive he is and how that worries them. He doesn't care. He is nothing. They have to drug him to make him close his eyes for more than a couple of seconds. 

He is alone in a much smaller cell when he wakes. Everything hurts - his insides and his outsides, all over his body. So he doesn't really move. He just sort of curls up on himself and stares at the wall some more. He’s totally checked out every time anyone tries to speak to him or get him to eat or anything at all.

They make him leave at some point. He gets his blood-stained running clothes and his shoes back, and he is walked out. The lawyer talks at him, but Aaron doesn't so much as look at him. He ignores Randy, too. He doesn't know what they know - he doesn't care. 

He just walks away from them. He keeps walking, even when they call for him. He has nothing with him - no money, no keys, no phone. But pay phones still exist in certain parts of the city. So he finds one of them, and then he calls Nicky because he doesn't want to talk to Andrew. 

“Aaron?” Nicky shouts, sounding worried. He'd had to take the collect call, and Aaron grunted his name so Nicky might have a better chance of accepting it. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“Downtown Albany,” Aaron answers, and he can't find anything else to say, so he waits for Nicky. It doesn't take Nicky long. 

“Listen, Aaron, Randy is looking for you. She's really worried about you. She said you just walked away from her earlier. What's going on?” 

“Too much,” Aaron whispers. “I can't be around her.” He doesn't think he can be around anyone, really. “I gotta go.” He hangs up, despite Nicky’s pleading for him to just  _ talk to him _ .

Now that he is trying to find an escape, he remembers that Matt gave him the security code to get in the complex if the doorman wasn’t there. The building manager also knows to let Aaron into Matt’s apartment. Aaron isn't sure how that is supposed to work, but it's worth a shot. He starts walking. It's miles to the stadium and Matt’s apartment, but he has no other way to get there, so he just keeps walking. What else can he do? 

The doorman takes one look at him and pales. He lets Aaron in without question and Aaron rides the elevator up to Matt’s floor. He tries the door and is surprised, if a little pleased, to see that it's unlocked. Randy must have been by, because there are a few things tossed about, but nothing is missing. Aaron goes to Matt’s bathroom and sits in the tub. His whole body hurts worse than he's ever hurt before. 

He sleeps. He has nightmares that are horrible, awful things, but he can't wake up from them. He watches Matt get stabbed. He stabs Matt himself. He sees Drake rape Andrew. He is raping Andrew. Then Drake is raping  _ him _ . And then it's those fucking men, and then - 

“Aaron?” Randy is shaking his shoulder gently. “Aaron, honey, you have to wake up.” He blinks and looks at her. She gives him a very soft, tremulous smile. “Don't you want to go see Matt?”

Aaron blinks again. “You said he was dead.”

Randy shakes her head. “Oh, sweetie, no. He was in a coma for a couple of days, but he's doing a little better now.” She climbs to her feet. “I'm so sorry, Aaron. I'm sorry we couldn't get you away from that place sooner and that you had to sit in there for so long. But Matt really would like to see you.”

Aaron can't move. He can't uncurl his limbs and he certainly can't stand. He just doesn't have the energy for it. He looks up at Randy and shakes his head. Matt will never want to see him again. He's sure of it. How could he? Aaron feels like she can see what's happened to him, even if he logically knows she can't. 

“Why not?” Randy asks, and she kneels beside him once more. “What's going on? What happened?” He just shakes his head. He can't tell her. He can't even think about it. “I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong.”

She sounds a lot like Betsy, saying that. Aaron forces himself to move his arms. He braces one arm on the side of the tub, but the moment he tries to stand, he cringes. His eyes roll back. He can hear Randy shouting even as hits his head on the porcelain.

* * *

 

Aaron is blinking up at an unfamiliar ceiling. He isn't in nearly as much pain as he was before, he knows that. There is something in his throat, and it's uncomfortable and makes him want to gag, but as long as he's very still, he doesn't feel it as much. He doesn't try to figure out where he is. He doesn't care. He just sort of wants the world to forget about him and move on. 

He blinks again. He can hear machines close by and hear muffled voices from farther away. He can hear a P.A. system calling codes and doctor’s names. Well, he isn't really that surprised that he's in a hospital again, honestly. He is aware of an IV in his hand and a clamp on one of his fingers to monitor his pulse. He can hear when the blood pressure cuff kicks on and feel it when it inflates around his arm. Still, he doesn't move. He doesn't really  _ want _ to move. 

He drifts in and out of a doze for a while. No one comes into the room. Perhaps they have all forgotten about him after all. He can't say he's disappointed, exactly, only mildly annoyed with the tube still down his throat. But he doesn't find the call button for a nurse and he doesn't try to do anything else. He just...doesn't really care. His mild inconvenience doesn't matter. 

Still, he supposes when the door opens, he can't be lucky forever. A nurse comes into his line of sight and she blinks at him before her eyes go very wide. She reaches over and hits the call button and suddenly there is a flurry of activity around him that he doesn't quite understand. He can't really hear everything they are saying to him, but he doesn't ask them to repeat themselves. But they are taking the stupid tube out of his throat, so he's grateful for that at least. Then they take out the other tubes in him, and he's less comfortable with that general process but relieved by the time they are done touching him. 

One of them starts asking him a lot of questions. He answers a couple of them, but when she starts asking him about what happened - he shuts down and stares at the wall. They send in other people, but Aaron refuses to say a word. Finally, they just bring him something to eat and then leave him alone for a while. He doesn't touch it. He's really not hungry. 

He has nothing to do, nothing to say, and nothing to even think. He doesn't really even feel like a person. He's a shell, maybe. That feels close to right, but not quite accurate enough. He's still  _ there _ , just...less perhaps. No one bothers him for a long while, but they moved his bed earlier so that he was sitting up, and even though it's not comfortable, he doesn't feel like moving it back down. 

He has grown fond of one particular spot on this wall. He can't figure out if it's a crack or a dent or a stain of some kind, but it is just a shade darker than the rest of the wall and no larger than a quarter, if oddly shaped. It's the only interesting thing in the room. 

Aaron distantly hears the door open again, but he isn't paying whoever it is any attention. He wants to discourage these doctors and nurses and the others from trying to speak with him. He isn't worth it. He's like the spot on the wall. He's a stain or a dent or a crack. He needs to be covered up, painted over. He cannot be fixed now.

“Aaron.” 

He ignores the voice. He has to. He heard that same voice in his nightmares. He can't bear to deal with it. His fists clench involuntarily. It hurts. Everything fucking hurts. He just...hasn't noticed until now. He's been too checked out. 

“Aaron, look at me.” 

It isn't a request, but a command. Aaron looks. It's not quite like looking in a mirror. Andrew has always been so very different from him. 

“What happened.” It isn't a question. 

“No.” Aaron says simply, and he looks away. Everyone is always expected to respect Andrew’s “no”s, and he hopes Andrew will respect his. It's harder to find the spot on the wall now that he's looked away. The room is too dim. He can't be really sure if it was ever there to begin with. 

Andrew crosses the room and he sits down in a chair with his arms crossed over his chest. “Matt isn't dead.”

“I know,” Aaron says. 

“The doctors said you wouldn't speak to them.” 

“I don't have anything to say.” And he really doesn't. He just doesn't care, even if his entire body is aching again, he can't care. There is no reason to. 

“They will transfer you to the psych ward if you don't speak to them.” Andrew is silent for a few beats when Aaron doesn't respond at all. “You asked me not to let that happen again.” 

“Tell them I'm okay.” Aaron says with no emotion at all.

“I don't think you are.”

Aaron looks over at Andrew, and Andrew is studying every inch of him. Aaron has no idea what he looks like. Probably not great. His face feels bruised and so does most of the rest of him, but he is in a hospital gown and the blanket is covering his legs. He realizes he’s sitting at an awkward angle, though. He tries to straighten and can't stop a grimace from flashing. Andrew’s eyes catch that too, and they narrow intently. 

“What happened?” Andrew asks, this time, and Aaron feels his little wall blocking him off from everything starting to crumble. 

“Three of them,” is all he can get out of his mouth. Andrew is a stiff wall of rage and tension in his chair. Aaron sort of wants him to just release it so maybe one of them can feel something. 

“And after you left?” Andrew asks, his voice forcibly even and tone controlled. 

Aaron shrugs. “I walked to Matt’s apartment.” He looks at his hands. They have been splinted better than before, but there is no extra gauze. He picks at the tape on the back of his hand where it is holding the IV in place. “Randy found me.”

“You have been here for two days,” Andrew says. He sounds bored again, his anger under control. “Randy called me after calling for an ambulance for you. I got here last night.” 

“Why?” Aaron asks. He still can't figure out why Andrew cares. 

“Nicky and I are your only family,” Andrew answers. “Someone had to sign off on what they were allowed to do.”

Aaron sort of nods a little and stares at his hands again. They are still a swollen mess, and they're worse now than ever. He doesn't want to think about why. He turns his gaze to the wall again. 

“Are you going to talk to them when they come back?” Aaron shakes his head. “What would you have me do to keep you out of the psych ward then, hm?” The question is bitter. 

Aaron looks over at him, and then at Andrew’s arm bands. “Give me one of your knives.” 

“No.”

“Then  _ you _ kill me,” Aaron says, simple as that. “You killed Mom, so I know you can.”

Andrew just stares at him for a long time. Neither of them look away from one another. Aaron thinks his face probably resembles Andrew's right now in the blank department. He just has nothing left. But he knows Andrew will say no. 

“Why should I?” Andrew asks instead. “You can't buy me my weight in ice cream if you're dead.”

“I won't have to,” Aaron mutters, and he looks back at the wall. More silence drifts between them. Aaron doesn't know why Andrew is even bothering to sit here with him. It must be boring. 

“Do you want to see Matt?”

“No.” And that answer has a bit too much emotion behind it. Aaron doesn't realize he's shaking until he looks down at his hands. He grips the blanket to make himself stop, even though it hurts. 

“Any particular reason?” Andrew asks. 

Aaron just shakes his head. He can't voice these fears yet. They are nebulous in his mind, sometimes solidifying into tangible thoughts, but mostly just hovering as unformed plagues at the back of his mind. He doesn't know how to handle any of that at all, and he can't say any of it in front of Andrew. 

Andrew just keeps talking. “He's been demanding to see you since he found out you were here. I stopped by to talk to Randy and he tried to threaten me. He thought I wasn't  _ letting _ him see you. Now I have to tell him you don't want to see him.”

“I can't,” Aaron says in a ragged breath. “I can't.” 

“Why?”

“I couldn't bear it if he touched me,” Aaron whispers. He sees Andrew go still at that. But Andrew has forced him to speak now, and Andrew will hear all of it, even if Aaron doesn't want to say it. “I'm...disgusting.” He can't speak above a barely-there whisper and he can't look at Andrew, but he can see Andrew from the corner of his eye. “After...what they  _ did _ … I can't. I won't ruin him any more than I already have.” 

He's shaking and almost crying and he  _ hurts _ so fucking  _ bad _ . But Andrew is right there, and Andrew has had this worse, so Aaron won't cry and he won't say a word about the pain because it isn't fair. He's just glad he can't hear his heart rate beeping at him. 

He wants to claw out his guts and bleach them, but he can't. He sort of want so set himself on fire too, but he can't do that either. So he just sits there and stares at the blanket rather than his hands. He just really doesn't want to be here - alive - at all. And fuck anyone that that isn't fair to. He just can't care. 

He goes still again and stares at the wall. The wave has passed and he's hollow once more. Andrew just sits in the chair without saying a word. Aaron doesn't even look at him. When the nurse comes back in, she brings different food and tries to convince Aaron to eat. He does, if only to make her go away. He answers what few questions she has in a dead, emotionless tone. She gives him a healthy dose of painkillers and he feels even less than he was a moment ago. 

When she leaves, Andrew stands. “I am not going to kill you,” he says. “But I'll call Bee.” And he leaves. 

Aaron doesn't care. He can always kill himself after he gets out of this place. It is only a matter of time. He lowers the bed back down and he curls up on his side to sleep. He's doped to the gills and it's made him very tired. He just hopes he doesn't have to dream. 

He wakes up again sometime in the middle of the night. Andrew is sleeping in the chair by his bed, curled uncomfortably and sleeping so lightly that his eyes open when he feels Aaron staring at him. They just stare at each other for a while, neither of them speaking. Finally, Andrew sits up. Aaron forces himself to do the same, even if it hurts like hell, and then stand to go take a piss. Andrew shoves a bundle of clothes at Aaron and tells him to shower, so Aaron does that too.

He is one giant bruise. Most of his skin is black and blue or purple or green. He rids himself of the splints on his hands and he takes a very long time in the shower. He doesn't have a razor, and he knows why, but he can't shave and that irritates him. Skipping that, he brushes his teeth and gets dressed slowly. It feels better to be in regular clothes again - even if they are Andrew’s. He might like them a little better for being too big. 

Andrew points to Aaron’s shoes and the hoodie laying on the bed. It's one of Matt’s. Aaron hesitates for a long time before finally putting it on. He shoves his feet into his shoes without socks and he follows Andrew. They ride an elevator to the bottom floor and walk outside. Andrew leads them across the parking lot before finding a little bench. They don't sit, but they stand around it while Andrew smokes. 

“You need to talk to Matt,” Andrew says evenly. Aaron doesn't respond. “Tell him.”

“I can't,” Aaron mutters, looking out at the cars. He watches one car pull up to the emergency entrance. A young man gets out and darts around to the other side to open the door. He tugs out a young woman, and she's very much pregnant. They toddle to the door together. Aaron wonders why he couldn't have just been normal. 

“You have to,” Andrew says simply. “You do your part and I'll do mine. No more deals where I do all the work.” 

Aaron just kicks at a clump of dirt. “Fuck you.” There’s nothing to the words, no heat, no sarcasm. He looks up at Andrew. “I'd literally rather die.”

“You'd rather die either way,” Andrew counters, “so that is a moot point. Talk to him and avoid the psych ward or go to the psych ward and  _ I _ talk to him. Those are your only choices.” 

Aaron could just kill himself now, but that seems like a lot of work to do at the moment and he is barely up to the task of walking around. So he shrugs and goes back to studying the cars. The one by the emergency entrance is gone, but a new one takes its place soon enough. He sees the man bleeding profusely from a cut on his hand. He should probably ask about his bloodwork now that he's thinking about it. 

Andrew finishes his cigarette and they head back inside. Aaron isn't very fast at the moment, but Andrew seems to be in no hurry either. They go back up an elevator, but they don't stop off on Aaron’s floor. They go to the 9th. Aaron just follows Andrew without thinking about anything. He doesn't quite have the capacity to think and walk at the same time right now, not when every step lances pain up his back. 

They stop at a door and Andrew knocks. Aaron follows him in and just stares at the floor. Aaron isn't really paying any attention to anything. He's stuck in his head, worrying about diseases and other long-term effects, and he's also trying to will the pain away. 

“Don't touch him,” Andrew says coldly. And that's when Aaron looks up. They are in Matt’s room - because of course they are, where else would they be. Matt is standing with Randy’s help and they are both wide-eyed. Andrew steps neatly around Aaron and takes up a place against the wall by the door. 

“A-Aaron?” Matt gasps, still reaching out for him. Aaron doesn't go near him. “What...what happened? What's wrong?”

He thinks about what Andrew said. He wants to know Matt’s reaction. All he can manage are the same words he said to Andrew. “There were three of them.” Randy and Matt both still look confused, so he adds, “At the jail.” And he looks down. 

Randy understands first, and it's really no wonder, considering how she found him in Matt’s apartment. She gasps a little and Aaron can see her covering her mouth. Matt is still confused. He's looking between Aaron and his mom, trying to decipher what they mean. Randy looks at Matt and Aaron lifts his head to watch Matt’s expression. 

“He was raped, baby,” she whispers, and Aaron thinks someone should give her an award for acting or something. 

Then again, maybe Matt deserves the award. He sort of sinks. It looks like he remembers to sit on the bed at the last minute, and it's a good thing, because Randy really just can't support him. Matt’s whole expression is one raw, shattered, open wound. His eyes are wide and his eyebrows pinched and his mouth open and frowning and he's pale. Aaron just stares on impassively. Matt’s mouth opens and closes several times like a fish. 

Finally, he says, “Aaron.” Just his name. It's soft and pleading and he's still got one hand out to him. Aaron just shakes his head. Matt drops his hand like he's been burned. “I still love you,” Matt whispers. 

And that right there? That is Aaron’s limit. He didn't know Matt loved him in the  _ first _ place, and here Matt is saying  _ still _ . He turns on his heel and he walks out of the room. Andrew follows. “I did my part,” Aaron says bitterly. “You do yours.” He hears Andrew’s phone snap shut. 

“Done. Bee will call in the morning and take care of it. I'll drive us back to South Carolina when they release you.” 

“You drove?” Aaron asks. 

“It was cheaper than flying,” is Andrew’s answer. Aaron lets the matter drop. He's not going to be comfortable either way. 

They head back to his room and he just stares at his bed for a while. Eventually, he has to force himself to sit and then lay down. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep his expression even. Andrew turns on the tv and finds the space show, which is all right with Aaron, and they just sit in silence until morning. 

Betsy delivers as Andrew promised, and Aaron is released from the hospital that afternoon. He heads back up to Matt’s room once the paperwork is done and asks Andrew to wait outside. Randy is gone, but Matt is there and awake when Aaron goes in. He stands at the foot of Matt’s bed. 

“I'm sorry,” Matt whispers. He looks like he's been crying. Aaron wonders how Matt can cry for him when he hasn't shed a tear when he'd thought Matt was  _ dead _ . 

“It wasn't your fault,” Aaron mutters. “I can't be here. My charges were dismissed, so Andrew is driving me back to South Carolina.” He leaves Matt’s hoodie over the foot of the bed. 

Matt clenches his jaw. “I want to be there for you,” he says softly. “I want to make sure you're okay - or that you will be, anyway.”

“I just thought I'd say bye before I left. Tell your mom I said thanks.” He turns and leaves, despite Matt begging for him to wait, to come back, to just  _ listen for a second _ . He can't. 

Even stopping for a night, the trip back to Columbia seems to vanish in time. Aaron blinks, and they are at the Columbia house. Aaron blinks again, and they are at PSU. He blinks again, and he is in Betsy’s office and telling her everything. 

And then he gets back to his dorm. Nicky isn't there. Aaron is grateful. He goes to the bathroom again and takes every pill he can find. Betsy knows why - he's literally just told her - so he doesn't bother writing anything down. He sits in the tub, since that is where he always used to hide, and he closes his eyes. This time, no one is there to save him.


End file.
